


SONG VICTORIES 



WITH 1310 GRAPHICAL SKETCHES OF 

IRA D. SAN KEY AND P. P. BLISS. 




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i>OST(M: D. LOTHROP & CO., PUBLISHERS 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, i 





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{.UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



SONG VICTORIES 



OF 



"THE BLISS AND SANIEY HYMNS," 



BEING A COLLECTION OF ONE HUNDRED INCI- 
DENTS IN REGARD TO THE ORIGIN AND 
POWER OF THE HYMNS CONTAINED 
IN "GOSPEL HYMNS AND 
SACRED SONGS." 



WITH AN INTRODUCTORY LETTER 
By REV. GEO. F. PENTECOST, D.D. 

AND AN APPENDIX 

CONTAINING BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES OF 

MK. IRA D. SANKEY ^nd MR. P. P. BLISS. 









No.. 



"oi/m 



Boston: 
Published by 0. Xothrop & Co. 

(Lover, Jf. H.t G. T. (Day &> Co. 



-ft/* 1 ' 



Copyright by 

D. LOTHROP & CO 

1877. 



t» CeuoRsaa 

WASHINGTON 



TO 

the singing evangelists, 

THIS LITTLE BOOK 

IS DEDICATED, WITH THE PRAYER THAT 

IT MAY LEAD OTHERS TO 

SING THE GOSPEL. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Introductory Letter 7 

[What a Pastor has Felt and Seen of the Power of Sacred Song.] 

The Power of Song upon Childhood. ... 8 

Power of Song in Young Manhood. V 

Song as a Deliverer 11 

Song as a Help to Consecration. • . •_ 16 

Song as a Means of Conversion. . • . 17 

Hymns in Public Worshtp 19 

Hymns in the Prayer-Meeting 20 

The Power of Song in the Revival Work of 

Moody and Sankey. 21 

Hymn Incidents, • . 31 

Consecrated Voices 125 

Appendix. 129 

Biographical Sketch of Mr. I. D. Sankey. . • . 129 

Biographical Sketch of Mr. P. P. Bliss. . . . 139 

3 



ALPHABETICAL INDEX 

OF 

HYMN INCIDENTS. 



PAGE 

Almost persuaded, . ' 115 

All hail the power of Jesus' name, • • • 91 
Arise, my soul, arise, • .118 

Brightly beams our Father's mercy, .... 48 

Come home! come home I 46 

Come thou Fount of every blessing, .... 119 

Depths of mercy! can there be, 108 

Free from the law, oh happy condition, . . . 112 

Guide me, O thou Great Jehovah, .... 112 

Have you on the Lord believed ? 106 

Hold the fort, .47 

I am coming to the cross, . . . . . .51 

I am so glad that our Father in heaven, ... 31 
4 



ALPHABETICAL INDEX. 5 

PAGE 

I gave my life for thee, ••••••60 

I hear the Saviour say, 43 

In the Christian's home in glory, . • • • . 55 

Jesus, lover of my soul, 62 

Just as I am without one plea, . 120 

Light in the darkness, sailor, 50 

Lord, I hear of showers of blessing, .... 57 

My faith looks up to Thee, 102 

Nearer, my God, to Thee, , 100 

O for a thousand tongues to sing, 9S 

Only an armor-hearer, 51 

Praise God, from whom all blessings flow, . . . 122 

Ring the bells of heaven, 53 

Rock of Ages, cleft for me, ...... S6 

Safe in the arms of Jesus, ...... 5S 

Sowing the seed by the daylight fair, - . . . .37 

Stand up, stand up for Jesus, 119 

There is a fountain filled with blood, .... 93 

There is a gate that stands ajar, 43 



6 ALPHABETICAL INDEX. 

PAGE 

There is a land of pure delight, • • • • • 116 

There were ninety and nine, 107 

To-day the Saviour calls, 60 

What means this eager, anxious throng ? . .40 

Yet there is room! the Lamb's bright hall of song, . 45 



INTRODUCTORY LETTER. 



' Sing ye praises with the understanding." 



" Our days of praise shall ne'er be past 

While life and thought and being last, 

Or immortality endures.' ■ 



I have fancied sometimes the Bethel-bent beam 

That trembled to earth in the Patriarch's dream, 

Was a ladder of song in that wilderness rest 

From the pillow of stone to the blue of the Blest, 

And the angels descending to dwell with us here, 

" Old Hundred," and "Corinth," and "China," and "Mear." 



WHAT A PASTOR HAS FELT AND SEEK OF THE 
POWER OF SACRED SONG, 

BY BEV. GEO. F. PENTECOST, OF BOSTON. 

My Dear Brother: 

You ask me to give you, from my own 
personal experience and observation, any facts 

7 



8 TROPHIES OF SONG. 

in relation to the use and power of sacred soig 
in connection with the work of the Ho.y 
Spirit for the conversion and sanctification Df 
sinners ; and I most gladly bear my testimony. 
I presume my experience is not different 
in kind from that of all other Christians who 
have submitted themselves to God under this 
wonderful instrument of the Spirit. 

THE POWEK OF SONG UPON CHILDHOOD. 

Some of my earliest religious awakenings 
were in connection with the hymns for chil- 
dren that were just beginning to be sung in 
the Sabbath-schools when I was yet a little 
boy. I mention one beginning: 

"I think when I read that sweet story of old, 

When Jesus was here among men, 
How He called little children like lambs to His fold: 

I should like to have been with them then." 

That little hymn would always quiet me 
and beget within my heart seriousness and 
longing. When as a child I used to hear or 
sing it, I would wonder if there was any bless- 
ing that I might have from Jesus that would 
correspond to His calling little children to Him, 



TBOPHIES OF SONG. 9 

and laying His gentle, loving hands on their 
heads and blessing them. And in after years, 
when I had grown to be a young man, away 
from home, and far from God by wicked 
works, that little hymn of my childhood 
would often come to my memory; and more 
than once I have sung it with choking voice 
and tearful eye, and with motions of real 
penitence in my heart. It is true that these 
effects were transient, but they were real and 
mighty ; and I doubt not that God used that 
child's hymn and the sweet echoes of many 
others — now forgotten — to keep my heart 
from becoming perfectly hardened against His 
"gentle voice." 

POWEE OF SONG IN YOUNG MANHOOD. 

To-day, on looking back over the fourteen 
years that have passed since I gave my life to 
Jesus, among the precious recollections of 
those happy days I recall a few dear old hymns 
that sung themselves into my heart, and taught 
me truths of God that otherwise I might not 
have learned, and led me to the sources of 
joy and delight which otherwise I might not 



10 TROPHIES OF SONG. 

have found. I can hear those voices now, that 
used to lead the singing in that blessed revival 
time. Some of them, it is true, were poor and 
cracked and discordant — it was a congrega- 
tion of "common people" — and would have 
utterly spoiled and ruined any songs other than 
those of the sanctuary, that were sung in 
those hours of the Spirit's presence and power, 
with hearts making melody to the Lord. I 
think it was the singing of that simple old 
hymn and chorus — which I now quote — that 
awakened in me the desire to be a Christian, 
by setting before me its promise of "sweetest 
pleasure" and "solid comfort" in strong con- 
trast with the unsatisfying portions I was get- 
ting from worldly pleasures, and the fear and 
dread of death that was so constantly before 
me: — 

" 'Tis religion that can give, 
In the light, in the light, 
Sweetest pleasure while we live; 
In the light of God. 

'Tis religion must supply, 

In the light, in the light, 
Solid comfort when we die, 

In the light of God. 



TROPHIES OF SONG. 11 

Let us walk in the light, 

In the light, in the light, 
Let us walk in the light, 

In the light of God." 

Eternity only will reveal the power that 
hymn had over me, both in bringing me to 
God, and in strengthening and encouraging 
me in the first days of trial and temptation 
that came to me as a young Christian. 

Time would fail me to speak at length 
of my experimental relations to those old 
classics, — 

"There is a fountain filled with blood," 
" Rock of ages, cleft for me," 
"Jesus, lover of my soul," &c. 

SONG AS A DELIVERER. 

I am profoundly sure that among the di- 
vinely ordained instrumentalities for the con- 
version and sanctification of the soul, God 
has not given a greater, beside the preaching 
of the gospel, than the singing of "psalms 
and hymns and spiritual songs." I have 
known a hymn to do God's work in a soul 
when every other instrumentality has failed. 
I could not enumerate the times God has 



12 TROPHIES OF SONG. 

rescued and saved my soul from darkness, 
discouragement, and weariness, by the sing- 
ing of a hymn, generally by bringing one to 
my own heart and causing me to sing it to 
myself. 

A year or two after I entered the minis- 
try, I passed through an experience that on 
the dark side of it culminated in leading me 
to believe not only that I had been mistaken 
in supposing that God had called me to the 
work of the ministry, but also that I was 
even mistaken in supposing that I was a 
Christian at all. Oh! the blackness and dark- 
ness of those hours! I cannot portray the 
dense gloom that gathered about my soul, 
and was fairly pressing me down to hell. 
In this fearful state of mind, having almost 
yielded up to despair, I was returning to my 
home from a neighboring town where I had 
been assisting(?) a "ministering brother" in 
a " protracted meeting." I got aboard the 
train, flung myself into a seat next a win- 
dow of the car, and made another desperate 
effort to recover myself, my faith, my hope, 
my confidence in God. I prayed in Spirit, 



TROPHIES OF SONG. 13 

I even called aloud on God, unmindful of 
the people around me; I went over the 
promises, and searched my memory through 
for some word of the Lord that would bring 
me help. But God's Word was a silent and 
sealed book for me, and my heart seemed to 
be turning into stone. In the midst of this 
wretchedness I was looking out of the car 
window up into the star-lit heavens, and won- 
dering if there was a God, if there was any 
Jesus, any Christ, if there was any hereafter. 
While thus gazing into the dimly lighted 
darkness without, from out of the midnight 
darkness within, with only the numb sense 
of my own wretchedness, as a man might 
feel who knows he is freezing to death with- 
out power to help himself, and; indeed, not 
caring to any longer, because it seems easier 
to die, I heard the low voice of singing in 
my heart, I say I heard the voice of singing 
within me, and harkening I caught the words 
of it, and with my own lips in low, tremu- 
lous tones began to sing, — 

" Jesus, I my cross have taken, 
AH to leave and follow Thee : 
Naked, poor, despised, forsaken, 
Thou from hence my all shall be." 



14 TEOPHTES OF SONG. 

I wondered at myself and at the song — I found 
my heart softening — I knew that tears were 
in my eyes — I felt them running down my 
cheeks — I was away back with Jesus on the 
cross — I heard his cry, "My God! My God! 
why hast thou forsaken me?" and in that 
same moment the Holy Ghost gave me fellow- 
ship with my Saviour, and I knew that cry 
from him was not for himself alone, but for 
me. I sang on through the hymn with still 
melting heart, with returning faith, hope and 
confidence, until in a perfect ecstacy of peace 
I reached the lines, — 

" Oh, 'tis not in griefs to harm me, 
While Thy love is left to me; 
Oh ! 'twere not in joy to charm me, 
Were that joy unmixed with Thee." 

And then, like a comforted child, I fairly laid 
my weary heart against His dear loving heart, 
knowing in my soul that He loved me, that 
He died and rose again for me, that He lived 
for me and that as never before we were united 
to each other. Thus that precious hymn was 
God's hand reached out to save me when I 
was sinking; thus He was pleased to manifest 



TROPHIES OF SONG. 15 

Himself to me in a sweeter, surer, and stronger 
way than I had yet known him. He had 
chosen to do this by and in a hymn, rather 
than by prayer, or meditation, or promise. As 
the cake baked on the coals and the cruse 
of water at his head were to Elijah, so was 
that hymn to me ; at least it was the hand 
of the angel that touched me and pointed me 
to the "true bread" and the "living water" 
in the strength of which, having eaten and 
drank, I went many days, yea, and am still 
even now walking. 

SONG AS A HELP TO CONSECRATION. 

Years after when I was passing through con- 
secration into deeper fellowship with the Lord, 
it pleased him to use that same hymn again ; 
this time not so much for immediate comfort 
as for searching. By inward teaching the 
Spirit was making me to know something of 
the meaning of the Master when he said, "If 
any man will come after me let him deny 
himself and take up Ms cross daily and follow 
me" Whilst I was learning somewhat pain- 
fully this lesson, I was one day suddenly 



16 TKOPHXES OF SONG. 

checked in the singing of this, one of my 
favorite hymns, with the distinct question, 
" can yon truly sing, — 

* Jesus, I my cross have taken, 
All to leave and follow Thee?' " 

I say I found myself checked in the singing 
of it for a long time ; until, in my deepest 
heart and purpose, I had truly denied myself 
into his hands, to be " armed with the same 
mind." But now, " thanks be unto God who 
always giveth us the victory," after having 
been searched by it, as I was never searched 
before, I can joyfully and honestly sing that 
doubly dear old hymn " in the Spirit and with 
the understanding also." The Lord always 
makes it a great comfort and power to my 
soul. And as a response to that hymn, now, 
always come those lines of Charles Wesley's 
great psalm, — 

" Thou, Christ t art all I want, 
More than all in Thee I find." 

I might magnify the grace of God ministered 
to me, by reference to many more hymns, 
but as the above may serve for illustrations 
of the use God has made of hymns in deal 



TROPHIES OF SONG. 17 

ing with my own soul, I pass to record, in 
a similar manner, the power of song as I 
have witnessed it in others, coming under 
my own pastoral care. 

SONG AS A MEANS OF CONVERSION. 

I said above that I have known a hymn 
to be used of God for the conversion of a 
soul where every other means had failed to 
bring light into the darkened and troubled 
heart. Once I was detained after prayer- 
meeting with a few others, to converse and 
pray with a young woman who was under 
deep conviction, and who refused to go away 
from the place of prayer until she had found 
Jesus. It seemed to be all in vain that I 
talked with her, explaining the atonement, 
quoting the simplest and strongest promises 
of the gospel, and urging her to an imme- 
diate and simple faith; it was all in vain 
that I prayed with and for her. At last, 
because — as it seemed — I could do nothing 
else, I began to sing that little hymn, the 
last verse of which goes, — 

" Oh! bear my longing heart to Him 
Who bled and died for me; 



18 TEOPHTES OF SONG. 

Whose blood now cleanses from all sin, 
And gives me victory." 

We had sung the whole hymn through, and 
were hushed into silence by the Spirit. Dur- 
ing the singing of the last stanza, our friend 
had lifted her weeping face toward mine, 
and was looking intently and eagerly at me, 
as though she would fain drink in the words 
and power of the song. And now in the 
hush that was upon us, reaching out both 
her hands to me, she said, in a plaintive 
kind of whisper, — 

"Please sing that last verse again." 

And again we sang, softly and tenderly, — 

" Oh ! bear my longing soul to Him 
Who bled and died for me; 
Whose blood now cleanses from all sin, 
And gives me victory." 

As the words and melody died away, the 
expression of her face changed; the darkness 
was overpast, and the light and gladness of 
His peace had come in the place of it; and 
with a cry of joy she turned and flung her- 
self into the arms of her sister, who was 
standing near, exclaiming, "I am saved! I 
am saved ! ! Oh ! blessed Jesus," &c. 



TROPHIES OF SONG. 19 

Incidents of this kind might be multiplied, 
but this one may suffice to illustrate the 
power of song in the conversion of souls to 
God. 

HYMSTS IN PUBLIC WORSHIP. 

It would be easy to fill many pages with 
interesting facts in connection with the use 
of hymns in the public worship of the house 
of God. I have seen vast audiences melted 
and swayed by a simple hymn when they 
have been unmoved by a powerful presenta- 
tion of the gospel from the pulpit. From 
close and repeated observation, I am per- 
suaded that Mr. Spurgeon, the great met- 
ropolitan preacher of England, places great 
reliance on the use of his hymns in public 
worship. By them he prepares his vast au 
diences for the service that is to follow ; and 
fastens his discourse with a hymn, which he 
always reads with great power, and which is 
sung by that vast choir of 7500 people with 
an effect that is indescribable. Indeed, the 
use of hymns in the service of the sanctuary, 
when in the hands of a pastor or leader who 
understands and feels the inspiration of them, 



20 TBOPHIES OF SONG. 

cannot be too highly estimated. It is a 
great pity that the power of "psalms and 
hymns and spiritual songs" has been so sadly 
weakened, if not utterly destroyed by the 
introduction of " fancy quartettes," who sing 
neither with the " spirit nor with the under- 
standing," and who practically forbid any one 
else to sing. Lord, hasten the day when the 
service of song shall be restored to the people. 

IN THE PRAYER -MEETING 

Hymns are simply indispensable. A pastor 
skilled in the use of them holds the prayer- 
meeting almost absolutely in his power. An 
unfortunate or ill-timed address or exhortation 
may be covered by a hymn, and the people's 
hearts and minds brought back to God. A 
pungent address, a ringing testimony, or a pre- 
valing prayer may be strongly supplemented and 
reinforced by a well chosen hymn promptly 
and sweetly sung, which, without giving out 
page or number, shall have sprung spontane- 
ously from the lips of the pastor or any brother 
or sister in the congregation who has spiritual 
discernment. For myself I should feel utterly 



TROPHIES OF SOISTG. 21 

lost, and without " sword. " or " trowel " for the 
building and defence of the walls of Zion, if I 
were without the "armory " and " kit " of hymns 
which God has given the church " to profit 
withal." 

THE POWER OF SONG IN THE BEVIVAL WOEK 
OF MOODY AND SANKEY. 

I shall close this letter by giving a brief 
account of the triumph of song as seen in 
connection with the great revival of the last 
few years on both sides of the Atlantic. All 
know the story of the "two " simple-hearted and 
" unlearned " men — Moody and Sankey — who 
went only a few years ago, " led of the spirit," 
to the British Isles, to preach and sing the gos- 
pel " there also." Moody with his open Bible, 
Sankey w T ith his budget of stirring hymns, and 
his sweet God-given and sanctified voice. It 
is exceedingly doubtful from all the testimony 
I could gather which had the most to do 
in the awakening and stirring which Scot- 
land and Ireland have received at their hands. 
Whether most is to be ascribed to Moody's 
preaching, or Sankey 's singing — one with sim- 



22 TROPHIES OF SONG. 

pie words of truth, the other with sweetest 
song — represent a two-edged instrument which 
the Holy Spirit has been pleased to use in the 
accomplishment of this mighty work. But 
certain it is that whoever visits Scotland for 
years to come will know that Sanhey has been 
there, for he has sung a hundred sweet 
songs into the hearts and spiritual lives of 
more than twenty thousand converts to Jesus, 
and has filled the whole land, Highlands and 
Lowlands, with their sacred echoes. 

Eminent Scotch clergymen told me, while 
in conversation with them on this subject, that 
it was Sankey's singing that melted the hearts 
of the people and made an open door for 
Moody with his Bible lessons, for such they 
were rather than sermons. Of course this is 
not mentioned to disparage the preaching of 
the gospel — God forbid — but only to show 
the relation of song to the spoken word. This 
service of song in Scotland was not a passing 
gift — it is a permanent legacy. None may 
reproduce Moody's matchless Bible expositions, 
but all Scotland for years to come will sing 
Sankey's songs. 



TROPHIES OF SONG. 23 

It was in the Barkley church in Edinburgh 
where these apostles of the Word and song be- 
gan their work, having been invited thither 
by the noble pastor, Rev. James Wilson, who 
was an advanced advocate of " hymns and 
spiritual songs" as well as "psalms" I was 
in that church, the guest of the pastor, during 
a crowded Thursday evening prayer-meeting. 
In deference to the time-honored custom of 
the Scotch, Mr. Wilson gave out a paraphrase 
of one of David's psalms. The congregation 
did bravely and well, considering the meter 
and the melody (?). But after the meeting 
was formally opened, the book of Paraphrases 
was quietly tucked under the pulpit and one 
of our little American hymns announced : — ■ 

*I hear thy gentle voice, 

That calls me, Lord, to thee ; 
For cleansing in the precions Mood 
That flowed on Calvary." 

In a twinkling every one present whipped out 
of pocket a little penny copy of "Sankey's 
Hymns ; " every face was radiant, and every 
voice was vocal. The house seemed filled 
with the Spirit, and every heart seemed to be 



24 TEOPKLES OF SONG. 

pouring out its faith, and hope to God in the 
hymn that had in all probability led many 
)f those present to Christ, and had quick- 
ened the faith and hope of all. I hope the 
Paraphrases will not be given up, and I am 
sure they will not ; but they will be improved, 
some of them, and sung all the better for the 
baptism that they are being baptized with — 
how are they straitened until it be accom- 
plished. I witnessed the same effect in Dr. 
Wallace's great congregation in Glasgow, the 
same in Dr. Bonar's church, the same in the 
great noonday meetings in Assembly Hall, and 
in other places that I visited. Indeed, Scot- 
land is ringing with songs and gladness to-day. 
Riding once from Ayr to Glasgow on a third- 
class train crowded with the " common peo- 
ple," who had been off on some excursion, 
my ears were filled all the way with the mel- 
ody of those revival hymns, which rose ever 
and anon above the noise of the rushing train, 
and rang out clear and beautiful when we 
stopped for a few moments at the stations along 
the line. It seemed as though we were on 
board the very car of salvation, being speeded 



TEOPHIES OF SONG. 25 

along by bands of singing angels come to con- 
voy us. 

Again, one Sunday evening I left my 
hotel in Glasgow to go to Dr. Andrew 
Bonar's church, some two miles distant. On 
my way I was treated to a novel spectacle, 
and one which was repeated every few hun- 
dred yards until I reached the church. I 
will describe it : I had gone but a little 
way from the hotel when my ears were 
greeted with the familiar strains : — 

"Safe in the arms of Jesus, 
Safe on His gentle breast, 
There by His love o'ershaded, 
Sweetly my soul shall rest." 

Looking ahead of me I saw a crowd, from 
whence came the singing. Pressing up I 
joined the multitude of men, women and 
children gathered about a little band of 
brothers and sisters in the Lord, who were 
holding a service of song on the street cor- 
ner. This little company could not preach, 
in the technical sense of that word, but they 
could sing the glad gospel out on the even- 
ing air, and thus say to all, "come!" I 



26 TEOPHIES OF SONG. 

was very deeply impressed with their simple 
service, for they were evidently engaging in 
it as a matter that was to be done unto 
the Lord. As they passed from the singing 
of one hymn to another, sometimes slipping 
in a brief prayer between, I noted the effect 
upon the crowd. Though made up mostly 
of the street rabble, such as is seen only in 
the large cities of Great Britain, it was 
hushed into quiet, and even eager attention 
to the singing. My attention was called to 
some faces grown serious and thoughtful as 
they hearkened to words of love and hope, 
and more than once I saw the tears stealing 
down the grim cheek of some sinner unused 
to weep. Thus was God at work in those 
neglected hearts, and doubtless His dear love 
crept into many a soul through those songs. 
As I have already said, these singing bands 
with their attendant crowds w r ere stationed 
all the way down the long street to the 
church, at intervals of a few hundred yards, 
and doubtless other of the principal streets 
of the city were similarly occupied. In no 
other way, it seems to me, could the gospel 



TBOPHIES OF SONG. 27 

have been so effectually preached to that 
class of people. 

At Dr. Bonar's church, which I reached at 
last, I found the same programme, only a 
little extended. There was no preacher — it 
was vacation time — but a few earnest brethren 
were occupying the platform, who in turn 
would speak a few words, perhaps relate some 
incident connected with the great revival, or 
rehearse the story of some remarkable con- 
version, and then a hymn would be announced 
— for instance : — 

"I hear the Saviour say, 

Thy strength indeed is small," 

and then the whole congregation worshiping 
God would fill the church with the sound 
of their song. 

These incidents, as those of the other classes 
given above, might be multiplied, but perhaps 
enough has been said. 

In concluding this letter, will it be out of 
place to express the hope and venture the 
prediction that this revival of sacred song is 
the forerunner or first fruits of a general 



28 TROPHIES OF SOSTG. 

revival of religion in the church of God? I 
believe it, and hail it as one who, watching 
for the morning, hails the gray dawn and roseate 
light in the East. " Even so, come Lord Jesus, 
come quickly." 



INCIDENTS ASSOCIATED 



WITH OUR 



POPULAR HYMNS 



When Haydn was asked why his music was 
so cheerful, he replied, "I can't make any 
other. I write as I feel. When I think on 
God my heart is so full of joy that the notes 
dance and leap from my pen." 



29 



" We'll crowd thy gates with thankful songs, 
High as the heavens our voices raise." 



"Lord, teach our songs to rise; 
Thy love can animate the strain, 
And bid it reach tlie skies." 

" Learning here, by faith and love, 
Songs of praise to sing above." 



"The great salvation loud proclaim, 
And shout for Joy the Saviour's name.*' 



" With calmly reverential joy, 
Oh, let us all our lives employ 

In setting forth thy love ; 
And raise in death our triumph higher, 
And sing with all the heavenly choir, 

The endless song above." 



St. Augustine thus describes the effect which the music had upon 
him as he entered the church at Milan the first time after he was 
converted to Christianity: " The voices floated in at my ears, the 
truth was distilled at mv heart, and the affection of piety over- 
flowed in the sweet tears of joy." 



TROPHIES OF SONG. 31 



HYMN INCIDENTS. 

"I AM SO GLAD THAT OUR FATHER IN HEAVEN 
TELLS OF HIS LOYE IN THE BOOK HE HAS GIVEN." 

This popular song, which was the rallying cry 
of the great revival in Scotland and also of many 
in America, was suggested to Mr. Bliss by hear- 
ing very frequently the chorus, — 

" O how I love Jesus!" 

He said to himself, " I have sung long enough of 
my poor love for Christ, and now I will sing of 
Sis love for me" He sat down and wrote the 
delightful and inspiring song of which the first 
verse is, — 

" I am so glad that our Father in heaven 
Tells of his love in the Book he has given; 

Wonderful things in the Bible I see, 
This is the dearest that Jesus loves me." 



One Sunday a man came into our Sunday- 
school at the Boston North End Mission, 
drawn by the sweetness of the children's sing- 
ing. He remained until the close, and came 



32 TKOPHIES OF SOKG. 

again that evening to our prayer-meeting. 
When the customary invitation to seek the 
Saviour was given, he came forward and found 
" peace in believing." To a few of us who. 
had remained to pray with the penitent seek- 
ers he said, "My friends, I feel that I'm a 
saved man, and I owe it to your children's sing- 
ing c Jesus loves me^ this afternoon. I couldn't 
realize it, I've been such a miserable sinner; 
but after I went away I thought it over, ' Je- 
sus loves me ; ' and then I thought of the 
next line, 'For the Bible tells me so,' and I 
tried to believe it, and I came here this evening 
to get you to pray for me." He became a 
regular attendant at the Mission, and while 
with us gave the clearest evidence of a gen- 
uine change of heart. 

This is but one of very many similar in- 
stances of almost weekly occurrence at this 
Mission. This same man soon after felt called 
by the Holy Spirit to prepare himself for the 
Christian ministry, and at present he is reg- 
ularly occupying a pulpit in Massachusetts, 
spending much of his time during the week 
in lecturing upon the evils of intemperance. 

E. Tourjee. 



TEOPHIES OF SONG. 33 

At one of the revival meetings at Edinburgh 
a gay, giddy girl attended. She went late and 
was unable to get a seat, so she wandered about 
in the hall outside. Inside the church they 
were singing, led by Mr. Sankey : — 

" Oh, I am so glad 
That Jesus loves me, 
Jesus loves me, 
Jesus loves me," 

The words went to her heart and her conscience, 
and she said, " I cannot sing that." When that 
meeting broke up she went to the meeting for 
anxious inquiries, and is now a rejoicing Chris- 
tian. 



A Missionary of the American Sunday- 
School Union in Missouri, after he had organized 
a Sunday-school recently, sang to them Mr. 
Bliss' delightful song, — 

" I am so glad that Jesus loves me," 

and followed it with the question, " Are you 
glad ? If not, why ? " He had hardly finished 
when a young man rose, and rushing up to him, 
threw his arms around his neck, sobbing, " Oh, 



34 TROPHIES OF SOffG. 

sir, you must not leave here till I'm a Christian ! " 
Prayer was offered for him, and he was saved. 
Then he exclaimed, " Oh, that song ! I could 
not get away from it and it has saved me." 



A young woman in England went to a meet- 
ing where she heard Mr. Sankey singing this 
same hymn, — 

"I am so glad that Jesus loves me," 

and while the hymn was being sung, began to 
feel for the first time in her life that she was a 
sinner. All her sins came up in array before 
her ; and so numerous and aggravated did her 
sins appear, that she imagined she never could 
be saved. She said in her heart, " Jesus cannot 
love me. He could not love such a sinner as I." 
She went home in a state of extreme mental 
anguish, and did not sleep that night. Every 
opportunity of obtaining more light was eagerly 
seized. She took her place in the "Enquiry 
Room." There she found to her astonishment 
and joy that Jesus could^ did, does love sinners. 
She saw in God's opened Word that it was for 



TROPHIES OF SONG. 35 

sinners Jesus died, and for none others. When 
she realized this she too began to sing : 

" I am so glad that Jesus loves me, 
Jesus loves me, Jesus loves me, even me." 



In a praise meeting, during the recent revival 
services in Chicago, Mr. Sankey spoke as follows 
in regard to the power of this and other hymns : 

" What I have to thank God especially for is 
the wonderful way He has used the power of 
song. I remember about five years ago coming 
to yonder depot one morning early. It was my 
first visit to this great city, and I knew none 
here save one man. I went along Madison 
Street, up State Street, to the North Side, and 
met my dear brother Moody. I had met him 
one year before in a distant State, while he was 
engaged in the work of the Master. As I went 
along those streets I recollect how I wondered if 
God had a work here for me in my coming to 
this city, or whether I had come on my own vo- 
lition, and how while thinking in this way I sent 
up a prayer to God to bless me in the service in 
which I was about to engage. With thankful- 



36 TROPHIES OF SONG. 

ness I remember the very first day I spent in 
this city. Somewhere down here we came 
among the sick and lowly, and went from one 
house to another singing and praying with the, 
people ; and what a blessing we received ! 

" God led us into other fields. I remember 
when the Tabernacle was rebuilt how I used to 
enjoy gathering the little people in, and teach- 
ing them those sweet songs that are already en- 
circling the globe. Yes, encircling the globe, 
for but a few days ago I received a copy of these 
Gospel hymns printed in the Chinese language. 
They are sung in Africa and Asia, and are heard 
in France and Germany, England and America. 
I remember what peace and pleasure I had as I 
first taught these little hymns on the North Side. 
One day a lady called on me when I first had 
those classes, and said, 4 There is a little singing 
girl belonging to one of your classes who is dy- 
ing. She wants you to go and see her.' I went 
to her home — a little frame cottage, — and 
there I found a little maid dying — one whom I 
had known so well in the Thursday evening 
meetings. I said, » My dear child, how is it with 
you ? ' 4 Will you pray for my father and 



TROPHIES OF SONG. 37 

mother as you pray for us ? " was the reply. 
1 But how is it with yourself ? ' I again asked. 
6 Oh, sir,' she answered, ' they tell me I am about 
to die, but I have found the Lord Jesus Christ.' 
6 When did you become a Christian ? ' I inquired. 
6 Don't you remember one Thursday when you 
were teaching me to sing — 

" { "I am so glad that Jesus loves me, 
Jesus loves me, Jesus loves me;" 

and don't you remember how you told us that if 
we only gave our hearts to Him, He would love 
us? — and I gave it to Him.' 

" What that little dying girl said to me helped 
to cheer me on more than anything I had heard 
before, because she was my first convert. Thank 
God, there have been many since." 



"sowing the seed by the daylight fair." 

Ik one of the temperance meetings connected 
with Mr. Moody's revival labors in Chicago, a 
very intelligent reformed drunkard attributed 
his reform to the influence of this hymn. 

He confessed that it was difficult to speak 
about past experiences, especially when a man 



38 TROPHIES OF SOKG. 

had been a heavy drinker, as he had been for 
sixteen years. He began sixteen years before 
by taking his first bottle of ale in the back room 
of a country store, and then, entering the array, 
he had plunged into dissipation, from which he 
thought at first he could free himself ; but, as 
the years went by, he found the habit had be- 
come so strong that he couldn't control it, for it 
controlled him. He had stood at the mouth of 
the cannon, in front of the fixed bayonet, with 
the muzzle of a pistol right before him, and yet 
never had felt there such heart-sinking as he ex- 
perienced when he began to realize what a man 
was, fettered by this vice. He came to this city 
some little time ago, and spent most of his daj^s 
and nights in drinking and in playing cards, 
sometimes drinking thirty or forty drinks a day. 
While in this condition one night he came to the 
Tabernacle out of curiosity, to hear what was 
being said, and to see what was being done. He 
sat in the gallery, and was shielded by one of the 
long wooden pillars that upheld the roof. He 
saw the crowds enter with happy faces, and ap- 
parently light hearts, and nice clothes, and it 
hardened his heart, for he felt that he could 



TROPHIES OF SONG. 39 

never be like them. Then he heard Mr. Sankey 
sing the hymn " What Shall the Harvest Be ? " 
It struck him when he heard the first verse : 

" Sowing the seed by the daylight fair, 
Sowing the seed by the noonday glare, 
Sowing the seed by the fading light, 
Sowing the seed in the solemn night. 

Oh, what shall the harvest be ? 

Oh, what shall the harvest be ? " 

And then, said he, Mr. Sankey sang the third 
verse, a verse that entered my heart. It roused 
me from my stupor. It brought me to feel what 
my own condition was, and these words entered 
my soul : 

" Sowing the seed of a lingering pain, 
Sowing the seed of a maddened brain, 
Sowing the seed of a tarnished name, 
Sowing the seed of eternal shame. 

Oh, what shall the harvest be f 

Oh, what shall my harvest be ? " 

During the recital of these lines, the speaker's 
voice trembled, his whole frame was agitated, 
his words and manner were impressed on his au- 
ditors, many of whom were moved to tears, and 
sobbing was audible in many parts of the great 
hall. He then went on to say that that night he 



40 TROPHIES OF S(WG. 

had listened to this hymn, describing his own 
experience, he found no rest ; the words seemed 
to meet him wherever he went, — 

" "What shall the harvest be ? " 

They were written on the walls of the room in 
the hotel where he boarded. They haunted him 
wherever he went. He tried to drown the voice 
by drinking heavier, but he couldn't remove 
them. There they were wherever he turned, — 

"What shall the harvest be ? " 

He left the Tabernacle saying to himself he 
would never return ; but finally, such was his 
unrest, he went into the inquiry-room, and 
talked with Mr. Farwell and Mr. Brewster, and 
after a great struggle he gave himself to Christ. 
He trusted in the salvation wrought out for him, 
and, though he had lost position, home, family 
by the accursed cup, he rejoiced that God had 
looked down on him and saved him. 



"what means this eager, anxious throng?" 
— Rev. U. P. Hammond. 
Pekhaps no hymn has been oftener sung dur- 
ing the last ten years in evangelistic meetings 



TEOPHIES OF SONG. 41 

than the one with the above heading. It will 
be interesting to many to learn the circumstan- 
ces which suggested it. It was originally writ- 
ten as a description of the powerful revival of 
religion in Newark, N. J., in 1864, when hun- 
dreds were led by the Holy Spirit to find peace 
and joy in believing in Jesus. 

It was on a Saturday afternoon, when one of 
the largest churches was crowded with children 
and adults, that R. G. Pardee, that dear man 
who has done so much for Sunday-schools in 
America, made some very impressive remarks on 
the answer given to blind Bartimeus in Luke 
xviii. 37 : " They told him that Jesus of Naza- 
reth passeth by." 

Miss Campbell was present, and shortly after 
wrote those words which have been sung by 
thousands and tens of thousands the world over. 
It struck me that they might be set to music, 
and I found they went very well to the tune, 
" Sweet Hour of Prayer." There were origi- 
nally nine verses, if I remember rightly, but I 
only printed seven in the New Praises of Jesus. 
It has always been popular in evangelistic meet- 
ings, and multitudes by it have been awakened, 



42 TROPHIES OF SONG. 

and led to cry out, as did the blind man, " Jesus, 
thou son of David, have mercy on me." 

I remember that a gambler came into a morn- 
ing meeting, which crowded a Congregational 
church in Lockport, N. Y., while we were sing- 
ing that hymn, and at the close of it, though it 
was the first meeting he had attended, he arose, 
and with tears streaming down his cheeks, 
begged the Christians to pray for him. Earnest 
prayer at once ascended in his behalf, and it was 
answered. A few nights after, in relating his 
experience before a great audience in Dr. Wis- 
ner's church, he referred to this hymn as having 
been the means of awakening him, and added: 

" As I went out of the church that day, and 
over the canal, I threw the ' Devil's Testament,' 
with its fifty-two leaves into it." 

I am sure he never played a card afterwards 
He lived a consistent Christian life, and has since 
died a happy death. I might fill pages relating 
similar instances to illustrate the good this hymn 
has accomplished. Night after night during the 
past winter, not only in Great Britain, under the 
leadership of Brother Sankey, but also in Cali- 
fornia and Oregon, it has been sung by thou- 






TROPHIES OF SO^G. 43 

sands who will remember it to all eternity. The 
verses together are a sermon in themselves. 

Prof. Theo. E. Perkins has written some very 
appropriate music for this hymn, which is a fa- 
vorite with Mr. Sankey, and is often heard at 
Brother Moody's revival meetings. 

It is my earnest prayer that multitudes more 
may be led by this hymn so earnestly to call 
upon the Saviour, that they, too, may receive 
their sight, and hear Him saying : " Thy faith 
hath saved thee." 



" I HEAR THE SAVIOUR SAY," AND " THERE IS A 
GATE THAT STANDS AJAR." 

Maggie Lindsay, a girl of seventeen, who 
had been for some time a pupil-teacher in the 
Free Church Normal Seminary, Edinburgh, 
found the Saviour in the Free Assembly Hall, on 
the last night of 1873. On the 27th of January 
following she was journeying by train to Aber- 
deen, when a terrible accident took place at 
Manuel, near Linlithgow. She was amongst 
those who were most seriously injured, both legs 
being broken, and a rib, with other wounds of a 



44 TEOPHIES OF SONG. 

painful character. Her sufferings were acute, 
but she bore up under them with " gentle Chris- 
tian heroism," as an eye-witness testifies ; such 
as drew forth the admiration of all around. 
When the terrible crash on the railroad hap- 
pened, she had been reading Mr. Sankey's hymn- 
book, and there was the mark of a turned-down 
leaf at her favorite hymn, " The Gates Ajar," 
with its touching refrain, — 

" Oh, depths of mercy ! can it be 
That gate was left ajar for me ? " 

During her last hours it was affecting to hear 
her, amidst so great suffering, sing softly to her- 
self, — 

"Forme, forme?" 

Another hymn-book, "Phillips' Hallowed Songs," 
was recovered from the debris, " its pages stained 
with her own blood." " At one time," writes 
the minister who attended her during the last 
moments of life, " when we thought she had 
fallen into a sleep, eagerly wished and prayed 
for by us, we moved away out of sight. But in 
a few minutes we heard her, in low, gentle 
tones, singing to herself the words, — 



TROPHIES OF SONG. 45 

'Nothing, either great or small, 

Remains for me to do; 
Jesus died, and paid it all, 

All the debt I owe.' 

Shortly afterwards she fell asleep in Jesus. 
4 Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord.' " 



"yet there is room! the lamb's bright hall 

OF SONG." 

A GAY, thoughtless young woman, in Scotland, 
was one day invited by an acquaintance to accom- 
pany her to a Moody and Sankey meeting. She 
declined to go, saying she did not care to hear 
Moody and Sankey. On being further pressed, 
she consented and went. She was not impressed 
by anything she heard in the course of the meet- 
ing. Indeed, she thought there was " nothing 
in it," and wondered why people should make 
so much ado about what seemed so common- 
place. The last hymn, " Yet there is Room " 
was being sung by Mr. Sankey alone. He had 
reached the last stanza — 

" Ere night that gate may close, and seal thy doom, 
Then the last, low, long cry, ' No room, no room ! ' 
No room, no room; oh, woful cry, 'No room ! ' " 



46 TROPHIES OF SONG. 

These last words of Dr. Bonar's hymn fell upon 
the ear of the young woman like a sudden thun- 
der-clap. She left the meeting, but the words 
went with her. " No room, no room ! " still 
rang in her ears. Conscience awoke at the 
sound of this warning bell. Nor could she rest, 
until, as she trusts, she found rest in the great 
Redeemer. 



" COME HOME ! COME HOME ! " 

In Victoria Hall, Sunderland, England, Mr. 
Moody one evening closed his sermon with the 
story of a prodigal son, who was reconciled to 
his father — as he stood by the bed of his dying 
mother. Then Mr. Sankey sang, — 

" Oh, prodigal child, come home." 

When the audience had been dismissed, there 
came into the enquiry meeting a young man 
who had long played the part of the prodigal 
son, to the great grief of his godly parents. 
With a face marked with deepest penitence he 
came up to his father and mother, and throwing 
his arms about them, with many tears asked 
their forgiveness and also the pardon of God for 



TEOPHIES OF SONG. 47 

his sins. The prodigal child had a double wel- 
come from God and man. 

" Come home ! come home ! 
You are weary at heart, 
For the way has been dark, 
And so lonely and wild, 

O prodigal child ! 
Come home, oh come home ! 



"hold the fort." 

When General Sherman was marching " from 
Atlanta to the Sea," he left a detachment of 
troops at a certain fort in his rear. By some 
means the enemy got behind him, attacked the 
fort and drove its defenders from the outer to 
the inner intrenchments. The commanding 
officer was about to run up the white flag, when 
he saw on a distant hill the signal, "Hold the 
fort: I am coming. Sherman" This incident 
gave to Mr. Bliss the idea of his well known 
hymn, " Hold the fort." 



While Mr. Moody was in Dublin, the Royal 
Circus was much less attended than usual, and 



48 TKOPHIES OF SONG. 

so, a month or two afterward, the clowns made 
a plan to ridicule the evangelists. At one of 
their entertainments, in the presence of a large 
concourse, one clown said to the other, " I'm 
rather Moody to-night ; how do you feel ? " 
The other replied, " I feel rather Sankey-monius, 
myself." The fun did not work, at least, not 
as the clowns expected. The audience hissed 
them out of the ring and struck up, — 

" Hold the fort, for I am coming/ ' 

in which all the people joined, and thus ended 
the effort to make sport of the evangelists. 

"Ho ! my comrades, see the signal 

Waving in the sky ! 
Keinforcements now appearing, 

Victory is nigh ! " 

Chorus, 
" * Hold the fort, for I am coming," 

Jesus signals still, 
"Wave the answer back to Heaven, 

* By thy grace we will.' " 



"brightly beams our father's mercy." 

On a dark stormy night, when the waves 
rolled like mountains, and not a star was to be 



TROPHIES OF SONG. 49 

seen, a boat, rocking and plunging, neared the 
Cleveland harbor. 

" Are you sure this is Cleveland? " asked the 
Captain, seeing only one light from the light- 
house. 

" Quite sure, sir," replied the pilot. 

" Where are the lower lights ? " 

" Gone out, sir." 

" Can you make the harbor ? " 

" We must, or perish, sir I " 

And with a strong hand and a brave heart the 
old pilot turned the wheel. But, alas, in the 
darkness he missed the channel, and with a 
crash upon the rocks the boat was shivered, 
and many a life lost in a watery grave. Breth- 
ren, the Master will take care of the great 
light-house; let us keep the lower lights burn- 
ing ! 

" Mr. Bliss, hearing this story from Mr. 
Moody wrought out its moral in his well-known 
song,— 

" Let the lower lights be burning ! 

Send a gleam across the wave ! 
Some poor f anting, struggling seaman, 

You may rescue, you may save." 



50 TEOPHIES OF SONG. 

"LIGHT in the darkness, sailor" 

This song is founded on the following inci- 
dent : 

" We watched the wreck with great anxiety. 
The life-boat had been out some hours, but could 
not reach the vessel through the great breakers 
that raged and foamed on the sand-bank. The 
boat appeared to be leaving the crew to perish. 
But in a few minutes the captain and sixteen 
sailors were taken off, and the vessel went 
down. 

" When the life-boat came to you, did you 
expect it had brought some tools to repair your 
old ship?' I said. 

" 4 Oh, no ; she was a total wreck. Two of 
her masts were gone, and if we had staj^ed 
mending her only a few minutes, we must have 
gone down, sir.' 

" ' When once off the old wreck and safe in 
the life-boat what remained for you to do ? ' 

"'Nothing, sir, but just to pull for the shore.' " 

" Light in the darkness, sailor, day is at hand ! 
See o'er the foaming billows fair Haven's land, 
Drear was the voyage, sailor, now almost o'er, 
Safe within the life-boat, sailor, pull for the shore." 



TROPHIES OF SONG. 51 

"ONLY AN ARMOR-BEARER." 

This song was suggested by the familiar inci- 
dent of Jonathan and his armor-bearer: 

" Now it came to pass upon a day, that Jona- 
than, the son of Saul, said unto the young man 
that bare his armor, Come and let us go over to 
the Philistines' garrison, that is on the other 
side : it may be that the Lord will work for us : 
for there is no restraint to the Lord to save by 
many or by few. And his armor-bearer said unto 
him, " Do all that is in thine heart ; turn thee : 
behold I am with thee according to thy heart. 
And Jonathan climbed up upon his hands and 
upon his feet, and his armor-bearer after him : 
and they fell before Jonathan ; and his armor- 
bearer slew after him. 

" So the Lord saved Israel that day : and the 
battle passed over to Beth-aven." 

" Only an armor-bearer, proudly I stand, 
"Waiting to follow at the King's command ; 
Marching if * onward " shall the order be, 
Standing by my Captain, serving faithfully." 



"I AM COMING TO THE CROSS." 

At Glasgow, one evening at eight o'clock, 
there was a vast assembly, of men only, in the 



52 TROPHIES OF SONG. 

City Hall. They were packed into every cor- 
ner ; and outside were nearly as many in vain 
seeking entrance. It was a memorable time. 
Mr. Moody's subject was, " Whosoever," — sal- 
vation absolutely free, all gift ; nothing between 
a sinner and eternal life but an unbroken will. 
The mass of men listened with intense interest ; 
now and then you could see a tear, or the head 
bent in deep emotion. When Mr. Sankey sang 
the hymn, " I am Coming to the Cross," nothing 
could exceed the rapt, silent attention. When 
he came to the verse, — 

" In the promises I trust, 

Now I feel the blood applied : 
I am prostrate in the dust, 

I with Christ am crucified," 

not a head in the vast multitude moved, every 
face expressed deep feeling. This verse was re- 
peated amid still deeper silence and emotion. At 
the close, when an invitation was given to those 
who minded to remain for twenty minutes sim- 
ply for prayer, above a thousand remained, and 
thereafter a large number waited for conversa- 
tion, although the hour was late. 



TROPHIES OF SONG. 53 



An English writer gives a touching incident 
connected with this hymn from the dying hours 
of a Christian child of ten years. 

She much delighted in Mr. Sankey's hymns. 
" Oh, how I love those dear hymns ! " — men- 
tioning, " Safe in the arms of Jesus," and others. 

" When I am gone, mother, will you ask the 
girls of the school to sing that hymn ? — 

" c Ring the bells of Heaven! there is joy to-day 

For a soul returning from the wild ! 
See! the Father meets him out upon the way, 

"Welcoming his weary, wandering child! 

Chorus. 
" * Glory! glory! how the angels sing! 
Glory! glory! how the loud harps ring! ■ 
'Tis the ransomed army, like a mighty sea, 
Pealing forth the anthem of the free. 

" Ring the bells of heaven! spread the feast to-day, 
Angels, swell the glad triumphant strain! 

Tell the joyful tidings, bear it far away! 
For a precious soul is born again." 

The night before her death she said, — 
" Dear father and mother, I hope I shall meet 
you in Heaven. I am so happy, mother ! You 
cannot think how light and happy I feel!" 



54 TROPHIES OF SONG. 

Again : " Perhaps Jesus may send me to fetch 
some of my brothers and sisters ; I hope He will 
send me to fetch you, mother." 

Half an hour before her departure she ex- 
claimed, " Oh, mother, hark at the bells of heaven ! 
they are ringing so beautifully ! " 

Then, closing her eyes awhile, presently she 
cried again, " Hearken to the harps ! they are 
most splendid ! Oh, I wish you could hear 
them ! " 

Then, shortly after, she spoke again : 

" Oh, mother, I see the Lord Jesus, and the 
angels ! Oh, if you could see them too ! He is 
sending one to fetch me ! " 

She had been counting the hours and minutes 
since she heard the mill-bell at 1.30 p.m., long- 
ing so earnestly to depart ; yet expressed a hope 
she might see her dear father (then absent at 
work) before she went. 

At last, just five minutes or so before her ex- 
piring breath, she said, — 

" Oh, mother, lift me up from the pillow — 
high, high up ! Oh, I wish you could lift me 
right up into heaven ! " Then, almost immedi- 
ately after — as, doubtless, conscious that the 



TROPHIES OF SONG. 55 

parting moment was at hand, — " Put me down 
again — down, quick ! " 

And then, calmly, brightly, joyously gazing 
upward, as at some vision of surprising beauty, 
she peacefully, sweetly, triumphantly breathed 
forth her precious spirit into the arms of the 
ministering angel whom her Jesus had sent to 
fetch her, and so was forever with the Lord she 
loved. 



"est the christian's home est glory." 

In one of Mr. Moody's meetings, in England, 
a speaker rose and said that he had been an actor 
on the English stage for some years and had 
written plays. He was one night entertaining a 
London theatre audience, when suddenly a hymn 
he had learned in childhood came to his mind, 
beginning, — 

" In the Christian's home in glory, 
There remains a land of rest," 

which so unmanned him that he was compelled 
to go to the manager and tell him that he could 
not go on. He stifled conviction however, by 
drinking heavily at the bar of the theatre. The 



56 TKOPHIES OF SONG. 

religious impression then overcome he said had 
been renewed by the words of Mr. Moody and 
Mr. Sankey and he had now given himself to 
Christ. 



A Christian boy of Rev. Dr. Talmage's Sun- 
day-school, when about to die, said to his mother, 
" Don't cry, but sing ; sing, — 

* There is rest for the weary;' " 

and when they had sung a verse, he put his 
wasted hand over his heart, and said, just before 
it ceased its beating, — 

" There is rest for me." 



THE CHRISTIANS HOME. 

In the Christian's home in glory- 
There remains a land of rest ; 

There my Saviour's gone before me, 
To fulfil my soul's request. 

Chorus, 

There is rest for the weary, 
There is rest for the weary, 

There is rest for you ; 
On the other side of Jordan, 
In the sweet fields of Eden, 



TROPHIES OF SOKG. 57 

Where the tree of lif e is blooming, 
There is rest for you. 

He is fitting up a mansion, 

Which eternally shall stand; 
For my stay shall not be transient 

In that holy, happy land. 

Sing, O sing, ye heirs of glory! 

Shout your triumphs as you go; 
Zion's gates will open for you, 

You shall find an entrance through. 



"LORD, I HEAR OF SHOWERS OF BLESSING." 

The singing leader in an inland Sunday-school 
was a man of skeptical tendencies, — moral and 
upright, though far from being a Christian. One 
Sunday this hymn was commenced as usual, but 
when the leader came to the passage, — 

" Pass me not, O tender Saviour, 

Let me love and cling to Thee; 
I am longing for Thy favor; 

Whilst Thou'rt calling, oh, call me." 

his voice quivered, his frame shook, and in 
anguish he cried out, " Pray for me." It was 
a scene of thrilling interest, and earnest pray- 
ers then went up from teachers and scholars 
that he who had so long sung the sweet 



58 TROPHIES OF SONG. 

songs of Zion without feeling their power, 
might now sing with the spirit and the un- 
derstanding. He was happily converted, and 
is now a faithful Christian. 



"safe in the arms of jesus." 

— Fannie J. Crosby. 

Not long ago we visited from time to time, 
till the end came, a bright young life that had 
been laid hold of by our great British disease, 
consumption. Insidious, but terribly sure, were 
the advances made by this fell waster; and 
the watching was all the more solemn because 
the indications of spiritual life were but 
faint and dubious. Not many weeks before the 
close, a young lady, one of the recent converts, 
found her way to this stricken one, and began 
a series of visits which were most welcome. In 
the visitor the dying young woman found 
one younger than herself, who could sing 
from experience, "Safe in the arms of Jesus;" 
one to whose sweet voice she listened with 
pleasure, so far as the disease permitted ; one 
whom she soon loved. It is not permitted us 



TROPHIES OF SONG. 59 

to see into the hearts of others ; but this seemed 
evident in the case of the poor sufferer now- 
alluded to, that more than any other influence 
brought to bear upon her, the hymns, words, and 
visits of the young lady created a longing to 
know Jesus as her own Saviour. 



During the revival meetings in Edinburgh, a 
young man, who was an avowed skeptic, came 
into one of the meetings to scoff at all he might 
hear. He said afterwards, — 

" I believed only in God and the devil ; the 
latter I served well and sat laughing at the 
Christians about me whom I thought nothing 
better than fools." 

At length that beautiful hymn, — 

" Safe in the arms of Jesus/' 

was sung. A sudden thrill passed through his 
whole frame and then, like a dart went to his 
his very soul. His feelings were awful, but he 
listened to the next verse and he felt, " There is 
a Saviour. Who is He ? Where is He ? " He 
quickly realized the truth that Jesus was his Sa- 
viour and he threw himself into His arms, and 



60 TROPHIES OF SONG. 

left the place, saying in bis new joy and zeal, " I 
will now live and work for Jesus." 



"to-day the saviour calls. 

On the night when the great Chicago fire 
broke out Mr. Moody spoke to an audience of 
three thousand people, urging, as usual, immedi- 
ate decision for Christ. 

The song was then sung, — 

" To-day the Saviour calls: 
Ye wand'rers come." 

Ten persons stayed to give themselves to 
Christ, in response to this hymn. At the close 
of the enquiry meeting as they went out into the 
street they saw the whole sky lighten up with 
the blaze of burning buildings. Three, at least, 
of those ten persons perished in the fire. One 
more refusal to accept Christ and it would have 
been too late. 



The beautiful song of which this is the first 
line, was suggested by the motto, " This I did 
for thee," which a German clergyman placed un- 



TROPHIES OF SONG. 61 

der a print of "Christ on the Cross," that hung 
in his study. It is said that Count Zinzendorf, 
of precious memory, was first taught to love the 
Saviour by reading this motto. 



During a Western Sunday-school Conven- 
tion, there arose a cry of dissatisfaction, "A 
ring ! " " A ring ! " The strange and false charge 
was made that the managers were conducting 
the convention according to some recent scheme. 
Quite a discordant excitement ensued, during 
which a distinguished singer who was present, 
was called on to sing. He sang,- — 

"All this I did for thee, 
My precious blood I shed 
That thou might' st ransomed be, 
And rescued from the dead; 
All this I did for thee — 
What hast thou done for me?" 

Through the song Christ seemed to whisper 
to the discordant convention, " Peace, be still," 
and when the song had ceased, a calm, Christ- 
like spirit had filled the convention and contin- 
ued with it to the end. 



62 TROPHIES OF SONG. 



tt JESUS, LOVER OF MY SOTJL." 

— Charles Wesley. 

About the time that Isaac Watts was writ- 
ing his earliest hymns at Southampton, in 
Southern England, two brothers were born in 
the little town of Epworth, who were destined 
to be better known over the world than any 
other two men whom Britain produced in 
that half century. While their godly mother 
(Susannah) was dying, she said to her weep 
ing household, " My children, as soon as my 
spirit is released, sing a song of praise to God." 
Among the group who joined in this song of 
triumph with faltering voices, were John, the 
founder of Methodism, and Charles, its sweet 
singer. John was system; Charles was song. 
John was the Bezaleel who laid the founda- 
tions, and hewed out the pillars of the new 
tabernacle; but Charles was the Asaph who 
filled it with melody. 

Methodism was builded rapidly ; but the walls 
never would have gone up so fast had they 
not been built to music. Charles Wesley was 



TROPHIES OF SOKG. 63 

a born poet. Like Toplady, he was all nerve 
and fire and enthusiasm. God gave him a 
musical ear, intense emotions, ardent affec- 
tions, and a glowing piety that never grew 
cold. He ate, drank, slept and dreamed noth- 
ing but hymns! 

He must have been the ready writer of at 
least four thousand hymns. One day, while 
on his itineracy, his pony stumbled, and threw 
him off. The only record he makes of the 
accident in his diary is this: "My compan- 
ions thought I had broken my neck; but my 
leg only was bruised, my hand sprained, and 
my head stunned, which spoiled my making 
hymns until — next day!" Truly a man must 
have been possessed with a master passion, 
who could have written a sentence like that. 

Wesley found his inspirations "on every 
hedge." 

He threw off hymns as Spurgeon throws off 
sermons. For example, when he was preach- 
ing to a crowd of rude stonecutters and quarry- 
men at Portland, he turned his appeal into 
metre, and improvised a hymn, in which occur 
the vigorous lines: — 



64 TEOPHIES OF SONG. 

"Come, O thou all- victorious Lord, 

Thy power to us make known; 
Strike with the hammer of thy word, 

And break these hearts of stone." 

Standing once on the dizzy promontory of 
Land's End, and looking down into the boiling 
waves on each side of the cliff, he broke out into 
these solemn and thrilling words : — 

" Lo ! on a narrow neck of land, 
'Twixt two unbounded seas I stand, 
Yet how insensible." 

For every scene and circumstance of life, for 
prayer-meetings, for watch nights, for love 
feasts, and for dying hours and funerals, he had 
a holy impassioned lay. But, like Watts, Cow- 
per and Toplady, he had his master-piece. 
The Lord of glory bestowed on Charles Wesley 
the high honor of composing the finest heart- 
hymn in the English tongue. If the greatest 
hymn of the cross is " Eock of Ages," and the 
greatest hymn of providence is Cowper's " God 
moves in a mj^sterious way," and the grandest 
battle-hymn is Martin Luther's " God is our 
refuge," then it may be said, also, that the queen 
of all the lays of holy love is that immortal 
song : — 



TBOPHEES OF SONG. 65 

" Jesus, lover of my soul ! 
Let me to Thy bosom fly. 
While the billows near me roll, 
"While the tempest still is high ! " 

Whatever may be said of Wesley's doctrine 
of perfect holiness, there is not much doubt 
that he attained "unto perfection" when he 
wrote this hymn. It is happily married, also, 
to two exquisite tunes, " Refuge and Martyn," 
both of which are worthy of the alliance. 
The first of these tunes is a gem. The one 
central, all pervading idea of this matchless 
hymn is the soul's yearning for its Saviour. 

The figures of speech vary, but not the 
thought. In one line we see a storm-tossed 
voyager crying out for shelter, until the 
tempest is over. In another line we see a 
timid, tearful child, nestling in its mother's 
arms, with the words faltering on its tongue, — 

" Let me to Thy bosom fly ! 
Hangs my helpless soul on Thee ! " 

Two lines of the hymn have been breathed 
fervently and often out of bleeding hearts. 
When we were once in the valley of the death- 
shade, with one beautiful child in its new-made 



66 TBOPHIES OF SONG. 

grave, and the other threatened with fatal 
disease, there was no prayer which we uttered 
oftener than this, — 

" Leave, ah ! leave me not alone ; 
Still support and comfort me." 

We do not doubt that tens of thousands of other 
bereaved and wounded hearts have cried this 
piercing cry, out of the depths, — 

" Still support and comfort me." 

The whole hymn is at once a confession 
and a prayer. It is a prayer in metre. And no 
man is prepared to sing these words aright 
unless his soul is filled with deepest and most 
earnest longing after the Lord Jesus. What an 
awful blasphemy it is for unsanctified singers in 
a choir to perform this holy prayer merely as a 
feat of musical skill. 

What college boy would dare to commit to 
memory the Lord's prayer, and speak it as a 
mere piece of declamation on the stage? Yet 
we do not see any difference between 
declaiming a prayer, and the heartless mockery 
of performing, for musical effect, such words, — 

"Hide me, O my Saviour, hide, 
Till the storm of life is past l M 

9 



TROPHIES OF SONG. 67 

Or that self-surrender for the dying hour, — 

" Oh, receive my soul at last ! " 

Words like these are too infinitely solemn for 
frivolous lips in the concert-room or the organ- 
loft. When a congregation sings such a 
hymn as " Jesus, lover of my soul," each person 
should feel as if he were uttering a. fervent per- 
sonal prayer to the Son of God. 

The history of Charles Wesley's incompara- 
ble hymn would fill a volume. Millions have 
sung it, and will be singing it when the mil- 
lennial morn breaks. 

A coasting vessel once went on the rocks in a 
gale, in the British Channel. The captain 
and crew took to the boats and were lost. 
They might have been saved had they remained 
on board ; for a huge wave carried the vessel up 
among the rocks, where the ebbing tide left her 
high and dry. In the captain's cabin a hymn- 
book was found lying on his table. It was 
opened to a particular page, and the pencil 
still lay in it which had marked the favorite 
lines of the stout sailor, who was just about 
going into the jaws of death. While the hurri- 



68 TROPHIES OF SONG, 

cane was howling outside, the captain had 
drawn his pencil beside these glorious words 
of cheer, — 

" Jesus, lover of my soul, 

Let me to thy bosom fly, 
While the billows near me roll, 

While the tempest still is high ! 
Hide me, O my Saviour hide, 

Till the storm of life is past ; 
Safe into the haven guide, 

Oh, receive my soul at last ! " 

Blessed death song! Thousands of God's 
redeemed ones have shouted it forth as the 
" haven" of rest opened its celestial glories 
to their view. If we could choose the man- 
ner of our departure, we would wish to die 
singing,— 

" Other refuge have I none ; 

Hangs my helpless soul on Thee ! 
Leave, ah, leave me not alone, 

Still support and comfort me ; 
All my trust on Thee is stayed, 

All my help from Thee I bring ; 
Cover my defenseless head, 
With the shadow of Thy wing." 
— Mev. T. L. Cuyler, D. D., in "Heart Life." 



TROPHIES OF SONG. 69 

Mr. Long of Philadelphia in his work on 
hymnology gives the following incident as the 
occasion of the hymn : 

The brothers John and Charles Wesley, with 
Richard Pilmore, were one evening holding a 
twilight meeting on the common, when they 
were attacked by a mob and fled from its f ury 
for their lives. The first place of refuge that 
they found, after having been for some time 
separated, was a hedge-row near at hand, behind 
which they hid a few minutes, protecting them- 
selves from serious injury by the missiles that 
fell like hail about them, by clasping their hands 
above their heads as they lay with their faces in 
the dust. As night drew on, the darkness en- 
abled them to leave their temporary retreat for 
a safer one at some distance. They found their 
way at last to a spring-house, where, in compar- 
ative security, they waited for their pursuers to 
weary of seeking them. " Here they struck a 
light with a flint-stone," dusted their soiled and 
tattered garments, and, after quenching their 
thirst, bathed their hands and faces in the water 
that bubbled from the spring and flowed away 
in a sparkling streamlet. Then it was that 



70 TEOPHIES OF SONG. 

Charles Wesley was inspired to white, " Jesus, 
lover of my soul," with a bit of lead he had 
hammered into a pencil. 

These circumstances beautifully illustrate the 
hymn, giving to almost every line a reality that 
makes it peculiarly significant to every loving 
Christian heart. They had fled before their en- 
emies, and found shelter from danger : he sang : 

" Jesus, lover of my soul, 
Let me to thy bosom fly." 

No figure is so commonly used with reference 
to the assaults of the wicked as that of the line : 

" While the nearer waters roll," 

which is a favorite with the psalmist. The next 
line 

" While the tempest still is high; " 

also reminds one of the sweet songs of Israel, 
but seems above the former appropriate, recall- 
ing, as it does, the storm of missiles that broke 
upon the hedge when they were concealed be- 
hind it. The same figure, carried still further 
finds expression in the rest of the first stanza : 

" Hide me, O my Saviour hide, 
Till the storm of life is past ! 



TEOPHIES OF SONG. 71 

Safe into the haven guide, 
O receive my soul at last! " 

There can be no doubt but that the little 
spring-house suggested " the haven of eternal 
rest " for which the soul of the persecuted evan- 
gelist longed with unutterable desire. They 
had barely escaped death by flying to the only 
place of safety within their reach ; what won- 
der then that the poet should exclaim, — 

* ' Other refuge have I none, 
Hangs my helpless soul on thee: " 

as he thought, with a shudder, of the loneliness 
of the first of their flight, which is touchingly 
indicated in the lines, — 

' ' Leave, oh, leave me not alone, 
Still support and comfort me! " 

The thought of the first two lines of this 
second stanza is repeated in the fifth and sixth, 
and followed by yet another reference to the 
period of their greatest peril. Christ, the only 
hope of a sinner, is addressed in the words, — 

" All my trust in thee is stayed, 
All my help from thee I bring! " 

and entreated to save his soul when imperilled, 
as their bodies had been. He prays, — 



72 TKOPHIES OF SONG. 

" Cover my defenceless head, 
With the shadow of thy wing! " 

The third verse which is usually omitted, is a 
passionate appeal for aid in weakness and ex- 
haustion : 

" Wilt thou not regard my call? 

Wilt thou not accept my prayer? 
Lo! I sink, I faint , I fall! 

Lo! on thee I cast my care! " 

together, perhaps, with a reminiscence of the aid 
which they were doubtless able to render one 
another : 

" Beach me out thy gracious hand! 

While I of thy strength receive, 
Hoping against hope I stand. 

Dying, and behold I live? " 

The sufficiency of the Saviour in implied com- 
parison with any human helper, is finely brought 
out by the poet who, like Paul, evidently glo- 
ries in his own weakness : 

" Thou, O Christ, art all I want ; 

More than all in thee I rind; 
Raise the fallen, cheer the faint, 

Heal the sick and lead the blind; 
Just and holy is thy name; 

I am all unrighteousness; 



TROPHIES OF SOI^G. 73 

False and full of sin I am, 
Thou art full of truth and grace! " 

The weakness of their condition recalls its 
cause, the " wounds and bruises " that have ever 
been symbolical of sin. These had been laved 
in the limpid water flowing at their feet, hence 
the strain, — 

" Plenteous grace in thee is found, 

Grace to cover all my sin; 
Let the healing stream abound, 

Make and keep me pure within! " 

They had drank, too, of the water, and as it 
had refreshed their fainting bodies, would the 
Christian take refreshment from the water of 
life. This thought furnished the climax of the 
hymn, than which a move inspiring could hardly 
be framed in words. It is the language of per- 
fect confidence in the Redeemer as the source of 
eternal life. He sings, O how sublimely ! 

" Thou of life the fountain art; 

Freely let me take of thee; 
Spring thou up within my heart, 

Rise to all eternity! " 



A very touching incident in the last days of 



74 TROPHIES OF SONG. 

the life of the late President Finney has just ap- 
peared. It was the Sabbath. After tea, accord- 
ing to his custom, he was walking about his 
grounds with his wife enjoying a glowing sky 
and a cool refreshing breeze. Evening worship 
in the church near at hand, which he himself 
had planned and in which he had preached 
nearly forty years, had just begun. Presently 
there came floating out of the old sanctuary the 
familiar strains of the dear old hymn, — 

" Jesus, lover of my soul, 

Let me to thy bosom fly, 
Where the nearer waters roll, 

While the tempest still is high: 
Hide me, O my Saviour hide, 

Till the storm of life is past; 
Safe into the haven guide, 

O receive my soul at last. 

" Other refuge have I none, 

Hangs my helpless soul on thee: 
Leave, oh, leave me not alone, 

Still support and comfort me. 
All my trust od thee is stayed 

All my help from thee I bring; 
Cover my defenceless head 

With the shadow of thy wing." 



TKOPHIES OF SONG. 75 

He quickly caught it, devoutly joined the in- 
visible congregation and kept them company 
to the end. Before the morning dawned the 
prayer then breathed was answered, and he who 
had so long trusted in Christ was " at last " re- 
ceived into the bosom of his Saviour. 



A fine, intelligent Virginian young man, 
while residing in the West, became an infidel 
and a blasphemer of the name of God. From 
this state he was delivered by reading the work 
of Soame Jenyns ; but, while he acquiesced in 
the truth of revelation, he yet did not feel its 
power. He was attacked by a lingering and 
fatal disease, which led him to reflection and 
prayer, but often made it difficult for him to con- 
verse. Three Christian friends sometimes vis- 
ited him, to beguile the tedious hours by sing- 
ing. They one day entered his room, and, 
almost without any previous remarks, began the 
hymn,— 

" There is a fountain filled with blood," 

and then, — 

" The voice of free grace cries, Escape to the mountain." 



76 TROPHIES OF SONG. 

He then said to them, "There is nothing I 
so much delight to hear as the first hymn you 
ever sung to me, — 

1 Jesus, lover of my soul.' " 

We began to sing it to the tune of Martyn, 
and found the solemnity which had reigned 
in the little circle while singing the two 
former hymns began to be changed to weep- 
ing. We struck the touching strains of the 
second stanza, and the weeping became loud; 
the heart of him who had reviled Christ 
broke ; and we feared that to sing the re- 
maining stanza would be more than he could 
bear. When singing in his room a few days 
after this, he said, "I don't think I shall ever 
hear ' Jesus, lover of my soul' sung again: 
it so excites me that my poor body cannot 
bear it." 



Several years ago, a ship was burned near 
the English Channel. Among the passengers 
were a father, mother, and their little child, 
a daughter not many months old. When the 
discovery was made that the ship was on fire, 



TE0PH1ES OF SONG. 77 

and the alarm was given, there was great 
confusion, and this family became separated. 
The father was rescued, and taken to Liver- 
pool; but the mother and infant were carried 
overboard by the crowd, and, unnoticed by 
those who were doing all in their power to 
save the sufferers still on the ship, they 
drifted out of the channel with the tide, the 
mother clinging to a fragment of the wreck, 
with her little one clasped to her breast. 

Late in the afternoon of that day, a vessel 
bound from Newport, Wales, to America, was 
moving slowly along in her course. There 
was only a slight breeze, and the captain was 
impatiently walking the deck, when his at- 
tention was called to an object some distance 
off, which looked like a person in the water. 
The officers and crew watched it for a time, 
and as no vessel was near from which any one 
could have fallen overboard, they thought it 
impossible that this could be a human being. 
But, as their vessel was scarcely moving, it 
was thought best to get out a boat and row 
to the object. The boat was accordingly low- 
ered and manned. It was watched with con- 



78 TROPHIES OF SONG. 

siderable interest by those who remained on 
board, and they noticed that, as it drew near 
to the drifting speck, the rowers rested on 
their oars two or three minutes, then moved 
forward, took in the object or thing, they 
knew not which, and returned to the ship. 
When the boat's crew came on board, they 
brought with them this mother and her child, 
alive and well; and the sailors said that, 
as they drew near, they heard a female voice 
sweetly singing. As with a common impulse, 
the men ceased rowing and listened, and then 
the words of the beautiful hymn, sung by this 
trusting Christian, all unconscious that deliver- 
ance was so near, came over the waves to 
their ears: — 

" Jesus, lover of my soul, 

Let me to Thy bosom fly, 
"While the waters near me roll, 

While the tempest still is high ! 
Hide me, O my Saviour, hide, 

Till the storm of life is past ; 
Safe into the haven guide, 

Oh, receive my soul at last. 

Other refuge have I none, 

Hangs my helpless soul on thee ! 
Leave, ah, leave me not alone, 



T&OPHIES OF SONG. 79 

Still support and comfort me ; 
All my trust on Thee is stayed, 

All my help from Thee I bring ; 
Cover my defenseless head, 

With the shadow of Thy wing." 

In due time the vessel arrived in America. 
The mother wrote to her friends in England, 
and thus the father learned of the safety of 
his wife and child, and in about four months 
from the time of their separation they were 
happily reunited. 



A poor woman, who had no hope in Christ, 
was dying in the attic of one of the New 
York tenement houses. A minister was sent 
for, but his words and prayers failed to give 
her hope. She said again and again, as he 
talked to her, "It's no use; I'm too wicked, 
and it's too late." At length he began to 
sing, "Jesus, lover of my soul," and sang 
two verses. Noticing her deep interest, he 
turned to her and said, "Can't you trust him 
now?" With a smile of joy she replied, 
" Other refuge have I none." Her happy face 
showed her acceptance of Jesus. 



80 TROPHIES OF SONG. 

We were a happy company of Sunday-school 
scholars and friends on Lake Winnipeseogee. 
The day had been spent most pleasantly. The 
" Lady of the Lake " had come alongside the 
wharf and with a clear, sharp note from her clar- 
ion bell had invited us again on board. Friends 
from shore and on the water waved their friendly 
" good-by." Seated upon the upper deck, antic- 
ipating a most charming ride upon the lake, the 
fastenings were unloosed and we shot out upon 
the clear ample waters, and were fairly on our 
course, anticipating an hour's enjoyment only 
afforded by such a company and such an occa- 
sion. All at once we were confronted by one of 
the most terrific storms of wind, rain, lightning 
and thunder ever known by the captain of the 
boat in an experience of twenty-five years. 

Terror now took possession of nearly all, as 
well it might. In a confusion amounting almost 
to a panic, all rushed for the cabin's hold. Hap- 
pening to be among the last to leave the deck, 
and standing about midway on the stairs, we 
witnessed a scene such as we had never be- 
held before, and never wish to re-experience. 
Women were crying and fainting, children were 






TROPHIES OF SONG. 81 

frantic with fright, and strong, full-grown men 
stood pale and trembling. We tried to inspire 
calmness and composure, but to very little pur- 
pose. We remembered being in the coliseum at 
Boston on the 4th of July of last year, when a 
terrible hurricane and storm burst upon us. 
What seemed an inevitable and fearful panic, 
was turned into huzzas when the English band 
changed from a classic selection to our own pa- 
triotic "Yankee Doodle." We did not strike 
up any of the national airs, but just what was 
in our heart at the time, — 

"I am trusting, Lord, in thee, 
Dear Lamb of Calvary.' ' 

The sentiment found a response in other 
hearts ; we did not sing alone. Others joined, 
and our voices were above the tumult within 
and the roar of the hurricane without, and there 
was a calm. But without, the storm raged with 
increased fury, and its roar was fearful. Then 
we sang, — 

" Jesus, lover of my soul, 
Let me to try bosom fly." 

The lightning's flash seemed almost to envelope 



82 TROPHIES OF SONG. 

us in a sheet of flame, and the thunders seemed 
to shake the earth and sea. And then we 
sang,— 

" Other refuge have I none; 
Hangs my helpless soul on thee." 

The gallant boat, in whose palpitating bosom 
we had taken refuge, met the storm bravely, but 
the gale was too mighty ; she was beaten back 
by the buffeting winds and waves, and imperilled 
by hidden rocks ; and then we sang, — 

" Thou, O Christ, art all I want, 
More than all in Thee I find." 

But the heart of the hurricane began to be 
touched and the winds to relent ; the lightning 
had a softer glare, and the thunder fell more 
tenderly in our ears ; so we sang, — 

" Ere we reach the shining river, 

Lay we every burden down, 
Grace our spirits shall deliver, 

And provide a robe and crown." 

Now there is a calm. The hurricane has sped 
on with its accompaniment of flood and terror, 



TEOPHIES OP SONG. 83 

and has left us out in the full clear sunshine. 
The shore and destination are in view towards 
sunset ; and now we will sing, — 

"Land ahead, its fruits are waving," 

and we ring out the chorus, — 

" Eocks and storms I'll fear no more, 
"When on that eternal shore." 

And now the "Lady of the Lake," in her 
grandest majesty, sweeps in graceful curve 
to make her landing, when again we all 
sang,— 



" Now we're safe from all temptation, 
All the storms of life are past," 



and the 



" Eocks and storms we'll fear no more; 
When on that eternal shore, 
Drop the anchor, furl the sail; 
I am safe within the veil." 

The singing saved us from a panic ; and, saved 
from that, we were saved from consequences we 
dared not contemplate. The twilight found us 
all safe at our homes. 



84 TROPHIES OF SONG. 

Other refuge have I none, 

Hangs my helpless soul on Thee ; 
Leave, ah, leave me not alone, 

Still support and comfort me ; 
All my trust on Thee is stayed, 

All my help from Thee I bring ; 
Cover my defenseless head, 

With the shadow of Thy wing. 



A CHAPLAIN" in our army one morning found 
Tom, the drummer-boy, a great favorite with 
ail the men, and whom, because of his sobriety 
and religious example, they called "the young 
deacon," sitting alone under a tree. At first he 
thought him asleep, but, as he drew near, the 
boy lifted up his head, and he saw tears 
in his eyes. 

"Well, Tom, my boy, what is it; for I 
see your thoughts are sad? What is it?" 

" Why, sir, I had a dream last night, which 
I can't get out of my mind." 

"What was it?" 

" You know that my little sister Mary is 
dead — died when ten years old. My mother 
was a widow, poor, but good. She never 
seemed like herself afterwards. In a year or 
so, she died, too ; and then I, having no home, 



TROPHIES OF SONG. 85 

and no mother, came to the war. But last 
night I dreamed the war was over, and I 
went back to my home, and just before I got to 
the house, my mother and little sister came out 
to meet me. I didn't seem to remember they 
were dead ! How glad they were ! And 
how my mother, in her smiles, pressed me to her 
heart! Oh, sir, it was just as real as you 
are real now! " 

" Thank God, Tom, that you have such a 
mother, not really dead, but in heaven, and that 
you are hoping, through Christ, to meet her 
again." The boy wiped his eyes and was 
comforted. 

The next day there was terrible fighting. 
Tom's drum was heard all day long, here and 
there. Four times the ground was swept 
and occupied by the two contending armies. 
But as the night came on, both paused, and 
neither dared to go on the field, lest the foe 
be there. Tom, "the young deacon," it was 
known, was wounded and left on the battle- 
field. His company encamped near the 
battle-field. In the evening, when the noise of 
battle was over, and all was still, they heard 



86 TROPHIES OF SONG. 

a voice singing, away off on the field. They 
felt sure it was Tom's voice. Softly and 
beautifully the words floated on the wings of 
night,— 

"Jesus ! lover of my soul, 
Let me to Thy bosom fly, 
"While the billows near me roll, 

While the tempest still is high. 
Hide me, O my Saviour, hide, 
Till the storm of life is past ! 
Safe into the haven guide, 
Oh, receive my soul at last. 

Other refuge have I none, 
Hangs my helpless soul on Thee ! 

Leave, ah ! leave me not alone, 
Still support and comfort me ! " — *- 

The voice stopped here, and there was silence. 
In the morning the soldiers went out and found 
Tom sitting on the ground, and leaning against 
a stump — dead! His soul went up in the 
song. Did his mother and Mary meet him? 
Whc can say ? But poor Tom was not created 
for this world, was he ? — 



" BOCK OF AGES, CLEFT FOR ME." 

— Augustus Toplady. 
Belcher writes : — " The death of the author 



TBOPHIES OF SONG. 87 

of this favorite hymn was indeed that of the 
Christian. A short time before his decease, at 
his own request, his physician felt his pulse, 
and was asked what he thought of it. His 
reply was that "the heart and arteries beat 
weaker and weaker;" the reply of the dying 
saint, as the sweetest of smiles sat on his 
countenance, was, "Why, that is a good sign 
my death is fast approaching ; and, blessed be 
God, I can add that my heart beats every 
day stronger and stronger for glory." Still 
nearer to his end he said, " Oh, my dear sir, 
it is impossible to describe how good God 
is to me ! Since I have been sitting in this 
chair this afternoon, glory be to His name, I 
have enjoyed such a season, such sweet com-v 
munion with God, and such delightful manifes- 
tations of his presence and love to my soul, 
that it is impossible for any language to ex- 
press them. I have had peace and joy unutter- 
able; and I fear not that God's consolations 
and support will continue." But immediately 
recollecting himself, he continued, " What 
have I said? God may, to be sure, as a Sover- 
eign, hide his face and his smiles from me. 



88 . TROPHIES OF SONG. 

However, I believe lie will not; and if lie 
should, yet will I trust in him. I know I am 
safe ; for his love and his covenant are ever- 
lasting." Within an hour of his death, he 
said, " It will not be long before God takes 
me; for no mortal man can live" — bursting, 
while he said it, into tears of joy, " after the 
glories which God has manifested to my soul." 



Dr. Pomeroy, in speaking of a visit he made 
a few years ago to an Armenian Church in 
Constantinople, says that he was greatly pleased 
with their singing, though he could not un- 
derstand the words. They all sung the same 
part, and while singing the hymns their eyes 
were closed, and as they sung the tears trickled 
down over many cheeks. 

On inquiry what the hymn was, one of the 
missionaries told him it was, — 

" Rock of Ages, cleft for me ! " 

O that the singing of these precious words 
would have like effect on the members of 
our American churches ! 

Dr. T. L. Cuyler says of this hymn : — "Of 
all its lines the two finest are those which 



TROPHIES OF SONG. 



89 



are carved on a monument in Greenwood, 
beneath the figure of Faith kneeling at a cross : 

" Nothing in my hands I bring, 
Simply to Thy cross I cling." 



A little girl of my acquaintance was once 
looking at a picture, which represents a rock in 
the midst of a stormy sea, bearing upon its sum- 
mit a cross to which a female figure just recov- 
ered from the angry waves clings, faint and ex- 
hausted, while at her feet a hand, grasping a 
part of the wreck, is just disappearing in the 
black water. 

"What does that mean," asked the child. 

"It is called ' The Rock of Ages,'" was 
the answer. 

" That means Jesus, to whom we cling for 
salvation." 

" You know the hymn says, ' Other refuge 
have I none.' " 

" Oh ! yes," said the child, after a moment's 
hesitation, " but that rock isn't my Jesus ; when 
I cling to him he reaches down and clings too." 

The following beautiful poem is in itself a 
commentary on this popular hymn : — 



90 TROPHIES OF SONG. 



" Rock of Ages, cleft for me," 

Thoughtlessly the maiden sung, 
Fell the words unconsciously 

From her girlish, gleeful tongue ; 
Sang as little children sing ; 

Sang as sing the birds in June ; 
Fell the words like light leaves down 

On the current of the tune — 
" Rock of Ages, cleft for me, 

Let me hide myself in Thee." 

" Let me hide myself in Thee," 

Felt her soul no need to hide ; 
Sweet the song as song could be — 

And she had no thought beside ; 
All these words unheedingly 

Fell from lips untouched by care, 
Dreaming not that each might be 

On some other lips a prayer — 
" Rock of Ages, cleft for me, 

Let me hide myself in Thee." 

" Rock of Ages, cleft, for me" — 

'Twas a woman sung them now, 
Pleadingly and prayerfully ; 

Every word her heart did know, 
Rose the song as storm-tossed bird 

Beats with weary wing the air, 
Every note with sorrow stirred — 

Every syllable a prayer — 
" Rock of Ages, cleft for me, 

Let me hide myself in Thee." 



TROPHIES OF SONG. 

" Rock of Ages, cleft for me," 

Lips grown aged sung the hymn 
Trustingly and tenderly — 

Voice grown weak and eyes grown dim, 
"Let me hide myself in Thee, ,, 

Trembling though the voice, and low, 
Ran the sweet strain peacefully, 

Like a river in its flow. 
Sung as only they can sing 

"Who life's thorny paths have pressed ; 
Sung as only they can sing 

"Who behold the promised rest — 
"Rock of Ages, cleft for me, 

Let me hide myself in Thee." 

" Rock of Ages, cleft for me," 

Sung above a coffin-lid ; 
Underneath, all restfully, 

All Jife's joys and sorrows hid. 
Nevermore, O storm-tossed soul ! 

Nevermore from wind or tide, 
Nevermore from billow's roll, 

"Wilt thou need thyself to hide. 
Could the sightless, sunken eyes, 

Closed beneath the soft gray hair, 
Could the mute and stiffened lips 

Move again in pleading prayer, 
Still, aye, still, the words would be, 
" Let me hide myself in Thee." 



91 



" ALL HAIL THE POWER OE JESUS' NAME ! " 

— Rev. Edward P err onet. 
About the year 1808, this grand old hymn 



92 TEOPHIES OF SONG. 

was printed at Canterbury on a card, for the 
Sunday School, to which is appended the follow- 
ing notice of the author: — " The Rev. Edward 
Perronet died at Canterbury, January 2d, 1792. 
His dying words were, ' Glory to God in the 
height of his divinity ! Glory to God in the 
depth of his humanity! Glory to God in his 
all-sufficiency ! and into his hands I commend 
my spirit.' " — Belcher. 



The late William Dawson, a very plain man, 
but a highly popular local preacher among 
the Wesleyan Methodists of England, was, some 
years since, preaching in London *on the offices 
of Christ. After presenting him as the great 
teacher and Priest, who made himself an offer- 
ing for sin, the preacher introduced him as 
the King of saints. Having shown that he was 
king in his own right, he proceeded to the coro- 
nation. Borrowing his ideas from scenes fa- 
miliar to his audience, he marshalled the im- 
mense procession moving toward the grand 
temple to place the insignia of royalty upon 
the King of the Universe. So vividly did 
the preacher present the scene, that his hearers 



TROPHIES OF SONG. 93 

almost thought they were gazing upon that long 
line of patriarchs and kings, prophets and 
apostles, martyrs and confessors of every age 
and clime, until at length the great temple was 
filled, and the solemn and imposing ceremony 
of coronation was about to take place. The 
audience by this time were wrought up to the 
highest pitch of excitement; and, while mo- 
mentarily expecting to hear the anthem peal out 
from the vast assemblage, the preacher com- 
menced singing, — 

" All hail the power of Jesus' name ! " 

The effect was electrical. The audience started 
to their feet and sang the hymn with such spirit 
and feeling as perhaps it was never sang before 
or since. — Belcher. 



" THERE IS A FOTHSTTAISr FILLED WITH BLOOD." 

— William Cowper. 
A notorious robber of New York grew 
weary of his sinful life, and wanted to become 
a Christian, but almost despaired of being saved. 
A Christian man talked and prayed with him, 
but could not give him any encouragement. 
He then sang the first verse of — 



94 TROPHIES OF SONG. 

" There is a fountain rilled with blood," 

but the poor man said, " there is nothing in that 
for me." He then sang the second verse, — 

" The dying thief rejoiced to see 
That fountain in his day ; 
And there may I, though vile as he, 
Wash all my sins away." 

" That means me" said the penitent robber. 
Hope sprung up in his heart, and he was 
soon after happily converted. 



A POOR Sabbath scholar has fallen down a 
hatchway and broken his hip. The doctor 
says he is internally injured, and that he 
cannot help him. The boy's teacher is sent 
for, and is surprised at the greeting he re- 
ceived. " Teacher, you are just in time to 
hear my great joy; I am going home to 
Jesus." "I did not know you ever thought 
about such things, John; how long have you 
felt so ? " " Dear teacher, you never asked 
me; I have been longing to have you for six 
months. Now sing my favorite hymn with 
me, dear teacher." And while they sang the 
sweet words, — 



TKOPHXES OF SONG. 95 

" And sinners plunged beneath that flood, 
Lose all their guilty stains/ ' 

tlie messenger came to call the lad Home. 



Shortly after the visit of Mr. Moody and 
Mr. Sankey to Scotland, a little boy passed 
along the streets of Glasgow in the evening sing- 
ing, 

" There is a fountain filled with blood." 

A Christian policeman joined in the song. At 
the end of the policeman's beat he asked the boy 
if he understood what he was singing. 

" Oh yes, said the little fellow, " I know it in 
my heart and it is very precious" 

A few evenings afterward some one, in con- 
versation with the policeman, said : 

"Do you know that a woman standing where 
we are was awakened and saved by hearing the 
other night a hymn sung by a policeman and a 
boy?" 

" E'er since by faith I saw the stream 

Thy flowing wounds supply, 
Redeeming love has been my theme 

And shall be till I die. 



96 TROPHIES OF SOKG. 

"Then in a nobler, sweeter song 

I'll sing thy power to save, 
When this poor, lisping, stammering tongue 

Lies silent in the grave." 



In a religious awakening a pastor invited a 
meeting of the young people of his congregation 
in the parsonage. The room was thronged with 
anxious inquirers. During the opening exer- 
cises he observed a young lady deeply affected. 
She was one of the most estimable young ladies 
of his congregation, one whose amenity of man- 
ner and purity of life might have been copied to 
advantage by many of the members of his 
church. Calling her by name, he inquired, 
" What has brought you here ? " 

" My sins, sir," was her deep and earnest re- 
sponse. 

" But," said he, wishing to test the soundness 
of her convictions, " what have you done that 
you should feel so deeply ? " 

" O, sir," said she, " I hate God, and I know 
it." 

Perhaps never before that hour had she com- 



TROPHIES OF SONG. 97 

prehended how deep and fearful is the enmity 
of the carnal mind to God. 

" I hate God, and I know it ; I have a heart 
opposed to all good ; I hate my own life, and 
now see how empty and worthless — nay, how 
insulting to God — have been all my good deeds, 
with which I thought to merit his favor ! O 
how utterly wretched and lost is my soul ! " 

She rose and went into an adjoining room. 
There she paced the floor to and fro, in an agony 
of soul bordering upon despair. 

" What mockery ! " she exclaimed. "How 
have I deceived and ruined my soul ! My con- 
demnation is just ! But O, my God, where shall 
deliverance be found ? " 

Just then she took a hymn-book, and her eye 
lit upon this stanza : 

" There is a fountain filled with blood, 

Drawn from Immanuel's veins; 
And sinners, plunged beneath that flood, 

Lose all their guilty stains." 

In one moment she was enabled, by faith, 
to plunge beneath that flood. Quicker than 
thought light broke in upon her soul; the Di- 



98 TEOPHIES OF SONG. 

vine Spirit filled her with his presence, and she 
burst forth into an exultant song, — 

" My God is reconciled; 

His pard'ning voice I hear: 
He owns me for his child 

I can no longer fear." 



At Hamilton Camp-meeting a man, whose 
vices had made him miserable, stopped at one of 
the tents where he heard them singing, — 

" There is a fountain rilled with blood." 

He heard the first verse : 
" That's not for me." 
The second began, — 

" The dying thief rejoiced to see 
That fountain in his day — " 

" That's for me ! That's for me ! and a few 
minutes later he was kneeling in the tent pray- 
ing for mercy, which he soon found. 



"OH, FOR A THOUSAND TONGUES TO SING." 

— Charles Wesley. 
Chaeles Wesley, when speaking to Peter 
Bohler of the sense of pardon sealed on his con- 
science, said: " I suppose I had better keep 



TBOPHIES OF SONG- 99 

silent about it." The good Moravian shook him 
by the hand and replied, " Oh ! no, my brother ; 
if you had a thousand tongues, go and use them 
all for Jesus ; " and he went home and wrote :— 

" Oh, for a thousand tongues to sing 

My great Redeemer's praise; 
The glories of my God and King, 

The triumphs of his grace. 

" My gracious Master, and my God, 

Assist me to proclaim, — 
To spread through all the earth abroad, 

The honors of thy name. 

" Jesus, the name that charms my fears 

That bids our sorrows cease ; 
'Tis music in the sinner's ears, 

'Tis life, and health, and peace. 

He breaks the power of cancelTd sin, 

He sets the pris'ner free; 
His blood can make the foulest clean; 

His blood avail' d for me." 



This hymn is also said to have been written 
by the author on the first anniversary of the 
conversion of himself and his brother John. 
It originally contained eighteen verses, and 
was entitled ".For the Anniversary of One* s 



100 TROPHIES OF SONG. 

Conversion" It was first published in the 
year 1739. 



During the great conflagration in Chicago, 
the Grace Methodist Episcopal Church, with 
many others, was burned. The pastor,* Rev. 
Mr. Parkhurst, after toiling all night with 
and among the sufferers, pointing them to the 
many mansions on high, and the temple not 
made with hands, where no fire shall con- 
sume, met three hundred of his homeless peo- 
ple on the ruins of their late beautiful house 
of worship, and sang: — 

" Oh, for a thousand tongues to sing 
My great Redeemer's praise." 



"NEARER, my god, to thee." 

— -Sarah Flower Adams. 

Dr. Cttyler says of Sarah Flower, the wri- 
ter of this soul-stirring hymn: "She was 
worthy of her name. For ' Sarah' signifies 
a princess, and a sweeter fragrance has rarely 
exhaled from any flower in the garden of the 
Lord. This gifted girl married Mr. William 



TROPHIES OF SONG. 101 

B. Adams, an English civil engineer of supe- 
rior abilities. She was of frail constitution, 
and amid many bodily sufferings she kept her 
pen at work upon various poetical productions. 
At what time she caught the inspiration to 
compose that one immortal hymn, which is 
now sung around the globe, we have never 
learned. Probably it was some season of pe- 
culiar trial, when the bruised spirit emitted 
the odors of a child-like submission to a 
chastening Father. It must have oozed from 
a bleeding heart. Her hymn first appeared 
in a volume of sacred lyrics, published by a 
Mr. Fox, in England, about the year 1841. 
The authoress did not live to catch the echoes 
of the fame it was to bring, for she died in 
1849, at the age of 44. She was buried in 
Harlow, in Essex, and for several years her 
name was known to but few beyond the cir- 
cle of loving friends who read it on her mon- 
ument. Presently the hymn began to work 
its way into various collections of songs for 
worship. It crossed to America. It was 
heard with delight in our prayer meetings. 
It was married to the noble tune of "Beth- 



102 TKOPKCES OF SOKG. 

any," and everybody caught the glorious 
strain. In noonday gatherings for prayer, it 
soon became so familiar that if any one " struck 
up" the hymn the whole audience joined in. 



"my faith looks up to thee." 

— Ray Palmer, D. D. 

It is, by far, the most precious contribution 
which American genius has yet made to the 
hymnology of the Christian church. The 
author of it was a native of " Little Comp- 
ton," in Rhode Island, and was graduated 
from old Yale in 1830. Immediately after 
leaving college he came to New York, and 
spent a few hours each day in teaching young 
ladies in a school which stood in the then 
fashionable quarter of Fulton Street, behind 
St. Paul's church. In December of that year 
(1830), just forty years ago, he sat down one 
day in his room, and wrote in his pocket 
memorandum book four simple verses, which 
he says " were born of my own soul," and 
were not written to be seen by another eye. 
He wrote them rapidly, and. with his eyes 



TROPHIES OF SONG. 103 

swimming in tears. The first verse reads 
thus : — 

" My faith looks up to Thee, 
Thou Lamb of Calvary, 

Saviour divine ! 
Now hear me while I pray, 
Take all my guilt away, 
Oh, let me from this day 

Be wholly thine ! " 

He put the memorandum book into his pocket, 
and carried it there for two whole years, little 
dreaming that he was carrying about with him 
his own passport to immortality. One day Dr. 
Lowell Mason met him in the streets of Bos- 
ton, and asked him to furnish some hymns 
for the volume of "Spiritual Songs," which 
he (Dr. Mason) and Dr. Thomas Hastings 
were about to publish. The young college 
graduate drew from his pocket the lines, — 

" My faith looks up to Thee.' ' 

Dr. Mason went home, and catching a similar 
inspiration to that of the author of the lines, 
composed for them that beautiful tune of 
"Olivet," to which the hymn is wedded unto 
this day. Dr. Mason met the author a few days 



104 TROPHIES OF SONG. 

afterwards and said to him prophetically, " Mr. 
Palmer, yon may live many years and do many 
good things, bnt I think that you will be best 
known to posterity as the author of this 
hymn." The prediction is fulfilled. The man 
who sang this sweet song of Calvary is still 
living, and has composed many tender and 
beautiful poems and discourses ; but his de- 
vout mind flowered out in one matchless lily 
whose rich odors have filled the Courts of our 
God with fragrance. 

How many a penitent, while reading or 
singing that hymn, has looked up to Calvary's 
Cross and found peace in believing! In how 
many a prayer-meeting has it been sung 
through tears of holy gratitude ! To how 
many a sick chamber and dying bed has it 
come like a strain from that heavenly land 
which was already in full view! 

The poetry of the hymn is as perfect as its 
theology. In its structure it closely resembles 
the " Rock of Ages." It begins in penitence ; 
it ends in praise. It begins in heart-broken 
sorrow, and concludes with the most glorious 
assurance of hope. In the first verse the sup- 



TBOPHIES OF SONG. 105 

pliant is represented as bowing before the cru- 
cified Saviour, and looking up to him, and to 
him only. He sees none but Jesus. His cry 
is,— 

"Take all my guilt away." 

His aspiration is, — 

" Oh, let me from this day 
Be wholly thine." 

Before that cross the praying soul obtains 
strength, and a pure, warm, and changeless love 
for his Redeemer. He is filled with a "living 
fire." He is the new man in Christ Jesus. 
But as he looks forward, he foresees a "dark 
maze " of trial before him, overhung with clouds 
of grief that lower black and terrible, and 
sometimes weep great showers of tears. Sur- 
rounded with these discouraging clouds of con- 
fusion and temptation he shouts out like one 
lost in the dark, — 

" Be thou my guide, 
Bid darkness turn to day, 
"Wipe sorrow's tear away, 
Nor let me ever stray 
From Thee aside." 

Before him lies still one more valley darker 



106 TROPHIES OF SONG. 

than any passed before. It is that vale in which 
end's "life's transient dream." Through it rolls 
death's cold and sullen stream. He already im- 
agines himself in the swelling of Jordan. And 
as the floods go over him, he lifts his last victo- 
rious voice of sublime trust, — 

"Blest Saviour! then in lovo 
Fear and distrust remove; 
Oh, bear me safe above, 
A ransomed soul" 

Such is the grandeur of American hymns. Is 
it not the graudeur of this century? And if 
our readers wish to know, and to thank its 
modest author, they have but to go into " the 
Bible House " in New York, and take by the 
hand our genial and beloved friend, Dr. Ray 
Palmer. — Rev. T. L. Cuyler in " Heart Life" 



"have you on the lord believed?" 

A vast fortune was left in the hands of a 
minister for one of his poor parishioners. Fear- 
ing that it might be squandered, if suddenly be- 
stowed upon him, the wise minister sent him a 
little at a time with a note saying : " This is 
thine: use it wisely; there is more to follow." 



TEOPHIES OF SONG. 107 

This incident, as told by Mr. Moody, suggested 
to Mr. Bliss his popular bymn, " More to follow." 

" Have you on the Lord believed? 

Still there's more to follow; 
Of his grace have you received? 

Still there's more to follow; 
Oh, the grace the Father shows! 

Still there's more to follow, 
Freely he his grace bestows, 

Still there's more to follow." 



VARIOUS statements having been published 
respecting the origin of the famous hymn, " The 
Ninety and Nine," sung by Mr. Sankey, it is 
well to follow them with the sweet singer's own 
account, which is to the effect that the hymn 
was written by a Miss Eliza C. Clephane of Mel- 
rose, Scotland, a member of the church of Scot- 
land. It was first published in The Family 
Treasury^ of which the late Dr. Arnot was edi- 
tor. But Mr. Sankey found it in The Christian 
Age, a London religious paper. 

" There were ninety and nine that safely lay 

In the shelter of the fold, 
But one was out on the hills away, 

Far off from the gates of gold — 



108 TEOPHIES OF SONG. 

Away on the mountains wild and bare, 
Away from the tender Shepherd's care. 

" ' Lord, thou hast here thy ninety and nine; 

Are they not enough for thee? ' 
But the Shepherd made answer: l 'Tis of mine 

Has wandered away from me ; 
And although the road be rough and steep 
I go to the desert to find my sheep." 



" DEPTHS OF MERCY ! CA^ THERE BE." 

— Chaises Wesley. 
An actress in one of the English provincial or 
country theatres, was one day passing through 
the streets of the town in which she resided, 
when her attention was attracted by the sound 
of voices in a poor cottage before her. Curi- 
osity prompted her to look in at the open door, 
when she saw a few people sitting together, one 
of whom, at the moment of her observation, was 
giving out the hymn, which the others joined in 
singing,— 

" Depths of mercy! can there be 
Mercy still reserved for me? " 

The tune was sweet and simple ; but she 
heeded it not. The words had riveted her at- 
tention, and she stood motionless, until she was 
invited to enter by the woman of the house, 



TROPHIES OF SONG. 109 

who had observed her standing at the door. 
She remained during a prayer which was offered 
up by one of the little company ; and, uncouth 
as the expressions sounded, perhaps, to her 
ears, they carried with them a conviction of sin- 
cerity on the part of the person engaged. 
She quitted the cottage ; but the words 
of the hymn followed her, and at last she 
resolved to procure the book which contained 
it. She did so ; and the more she read it, 
the more decided her serious impressions be- 
came. She attended the ministry of the 
gospel, read her hitherto neglected and de- 
spised Bible, and bowed herself in humility 
and contrition of heart before Him whose 
mercy she now felt she needed, whose sacri- 
fices are those of a broken heart and a con- 
trite spirit, and who has declared that with 
such sacrifices he is well pleased. 

Her profession she determined at once to 
renounce, and for some time excused herself 
from appearing on the stage, without, how- 
ever, making known her resolution finally to 
leave it. 

The manager of the theatre called upon 



110 TBOPKCES OF SONG. 

her one morning and requested her to sustain 
the principal character in a new play which 
was to be performed the next week. She 
had frequently performed this character to 
general admiration; but she now, however, 
told him her resolution never to appear as an 
actress again, at the same time giving her 
reasons. At first he attempted to overcome 
her scruples by ridicule; but this was una- 
vailing: he then represented the loss he would 
incur by her refusal, and concluded by prom- 
ising that if, to oblige him, she would act on 
this occasion, it would be the last request of 
the kind he would ever make. Unable to re- 
sist his solicitations, she promised to appear, 
and on the appointed evening went to the 
theatre. The character which she assumed 
required her, on her first entrance, to sing a 
song; and, when the curtain drew up, the 
orchestra immediately began the accompani- 
ment. But she stood as if lost in thought, 
and as one forgetting all around her and her 
situation. The music ceased, but she did not 
sing; and, supposing her to be overcome by 
embarrassment, the band again commenced. 



TROPHIES OF SONG. Ill 

A second time they paused for her to begin; 
and still she did not open her lips. A third 
time the air was played; and then, with 
clasped hands and eyes suffused with tears, 
she sang, — not the words of the song, but, — 

u Depth of mercy ! can there be 
Mercy still reserved for me ? " 

It is almost needless to add that the per- 
formance was suddenly ended. Many ridi- 
culed, though some were induced from that 
memorable night to " consider their ways," 
and to reflect on the wonderful power of the 
religion which could influence the heart and 
change the life of one hitherto so vain and 
so evidently pursuing the road which leadeth 

to destruction. The change in Miss was 

as permanent as it was singular: she walked 
consistently with her profession of religion 
for many years, and at length became the 
wife of a minister of the gospel of our Lord 
Jesus Christ. — Belcher; see also "Hedged in" 
by E. S. Phelps, p. 35. 



112 TEOPHTES OF SONG. 

" FREE FROM THE LAW, OH, HAPPY CONDITION." 

A gentleman iii Edinburgh was in distress 
of soul, and happened to linger in a pew after 
the noon meeting. The choir had remained to 
practise, and began 

"Free from the law, oh, happy condition," 

etc. Quickly the Spirit of God carried that 
truth home to the awakened conscience, and he 
was at rest in the finished work of Jesus. 



" GUIDE ME, O THOU GREAT JEHOYAH ." 

— William Williams. 
The power of this hymn as a shield is illus- 
trated by an allegory of Christmas Evans. 
" I see the unclean spirit rising like a winged 
dragon, circling in the air, and seeking for 
a resting-place. Casting his fiery glances 
toward a certain neighborhood, he spies a 
young man in the bloom of life, and rejoicing in 
his strength, seated on the front of his cart, 
going for lime. ' There he is ! ' said the old 
dragon ; ' his veins are full of blood, and his 
bones of marrow ; I will throw into his bosom 



TROPHIES OF SONG. 113 

sparks from hell ; I will set all his passions 
on fire ; I will lead him from bad to worse, 
until he shall perpetrate every sin. I will 
make him a murderer, and his soul shall sink, 
never again to rise, in the lake of fire.' By this 
time, I see it descend, with a fell swoop toward 
the earth ; but, nearer the youth, the dragon 
heard him sing, — 

' Guide me, O Thou Great Jehovah! 

Pilgrim through this barren land: 
I am weak, but thou art mighty; 

Hold me with thy powerful hand. 
Strong Deliverer, 
Be thou still my strength and shield.' 

* A dry, dry place this,' says the old dragon ; 
and away he goes. But I see him again hover- 
ing about in the air, and casting about for a 
suitable resting-place. Beneath his eye there 
is a flowery meadow, watered by a crystal 
stream ; and he descries among the kine a 
maiden, about eighteen years of age, picking up 
here and there a beautiful flower. ' There she 
is ! ' says Apollyon, intent upon her soul ; ' I 
will poison her thoughts ; she shall stray from 



114 



TEOPHIES OF SONG. 



the paths of virtue ; she shall think evil thoughts 
and become impure ; she shall become a lost 
creature in the great city, and, at last, I will cast 
her down from the precipice into everlasting 
burnings. 5 Again he took his downward flight, 
but he no sooner came near the maiden, than he 
heard her sing the following words, with a voice 
that might have melted the rocks, — 

1 Other refuge have I none; 

Hangs my helpless soul on thee; 
Leave, ah! leave me not alone: 

Still support and comfort me.' 

Again he turned away defeated. The devil, can 
say, as did the enemies of the reformers, ' By 
their songs we are conquered.' " 




OUR SHIELD OF SONG* 



TROPHIES OF SOKG. 115 

"ALMOST persuaded." 

Mr. Sankey was with Mr. Moody in Phila- 
delphia, years since, dnring the progress of a very 
interesting meeting at Dr. Keed's church, when 
many were being awakened, and sang this beau- 
tiful Gospel hymn, " Almost Persuaded." After 
the close of the meeting, an attorney, who had 
been very much interested, came forward and 
said that he was not only " almost " but " alto- 
gether persuaded " to put his trust in the Lord 
Jesus. This sweet song was used of the Holy 
Ghost in carrying the blessed Gospel of God's 
Son to his heart. 

" Almost persuaded " now to believe; 
" .Almost persuaded " Christ to receive; 

Seems now some soul to say, 

" Go, Spirit, go thy way, 

Some more convenient day 

On thee I'll call." 

"Almost persuaded," come, come to-day; 
" Almost persuaded," turn not away; 

Jesus invites you here, 

Angels are lingering near, 

Prayers rise from hearts so dear: 

O wanderer, come. 

"Almost persuaded," harvest is past! 
"Almost persuaded," doom comos at lastl 



116 TROPHIES OF SONG. 

"Almost " cannot avail; 
" Almost " is but to fail! 
Sad, sad that bitter wail — 
"Almost — but lost!" 



"there is a land of pure delight." 

— Isaac Watts. 

We learn from an American writer, who ob- 
tained his information on the spot, that the 
author of this familiar hymn, — in which every 
image is said to be scriptural, every suggestion 
appropriate, and every association holy, — wrote 
it at Southampton, his native town, while sit- 
ting at the window of a parlor which overlooked 
the River Itchen, and in full view of the Isle of 
Wight, " beyond the swelling flood," represent- 
ing " the land of pure delight," — 

" Where everlasting spring abides, 
And never-withering flowers." 

It is indeed a fair and beautiful type of that 
paradise of which the poet sung. It rises from 
the margin of the flood and swells into bound- 
less prospect, all mantled in the richest verdure 



TROPHIES OF SONG. 117 

of summer, checkered with forest growth, and 
fruitful fields under the highest cultivation, and 
gardens, and villas, and every adornment which 
the hand of man, in the series of ages, could 
create on such susceptible grounds. As the poet 
looked upon the waters then before him, he 
thought of the final passage of the Christian, — 

"Death, like a narrow sea, divides 
This heavenly land from ours." 

— Belcher. 



Oh, I do not know how we shall stand the 
first day in heaven. Do you not think we will 
break down in the song from over-delight ? I 
once gave out in church the hymn : 

" There is a land of pure delight, 
Where saints immortal reign," 

and an aged man standing in front of the pulpit 
sang heartily the first verse, and then he sat 
down weeping. I said to him afterward, " Fa- 
ther Linton, what made you cry over that 
hymn ? " He said, " I could not stand it — the 
joys that are coming." 

—T. Dewitt Talmage, 



118 TROPHIES OF SONG. 

"AEISE, MY SOUL, ARISE." 

— Charles Wesley. 

" Notice the first trial that the world ever 
saw. God reads the charge, 4 Where is Abel, 
thy brother?" Cain has the presumption to 
deny his guilt: 'I know not.' The trial pro- 
ceeds: a brother's blood is the terrible accuser, 
and when sentence of banishment has been* 
pronounced, the condemned man goes forth, 
crying out, 'My guilt is greater than I can 
bear.' ' From thy face shall I be hid.' " 

" I am thinking of another trial scene," said 
Mizpah, with such emotion that every one 
eagerly listened. "The judge is the infinite 
God, and the guilty one is my soul. The blood 
of Christ might cry out against me from the 
cross, as my accuser, but it ' speaketh better 
things than that of Abel;' it speaketh as my 
advocate, — 

1 Five bleeding wounds he bears, 
Received on Calvary ; 
They pour effectual prayers, 
They strongly plead for me : 

Kote. — This hymn represents every step of the prodigal's expe- 
rience, from the time when he says "I will arise," to the 
glad moment when the Father "owns him for his child." The 
story in Luke xv. should be read in connection with the hymn. 



TROPHIES OF SONG. 119 

Forgive him, O forgive, they cry, 
Nor let that ransomed sinner die.* 

Through this advocate we may be saved from 
the terrible cry of banishment, 4 From thy face 
shall 1 be hid ! ' " 



"STAND UP! STAND UP FOE JESUS ! " 

— Rev. Geo. Duffield, Jr. 
This deservedly popular hymn was composed 
to be sung after a sermon delivered by its au- 
thor, the Sabbath following the mournfully sud- 
den death of the Rev. Dudley A. Tyng, who 
was called from earth in 1858, and whose dying 
counsel to his brethren in the ministry was, — 

" Stand up for Jesus! " 

— Belcher. 



"come thou fount of every blessing." 

— Robinson. 

The author of this hymn was at different 

times Calvinist, Socinian, Baptist, Independent, 

Methodist and lastly irreligious. During this 

last state of life his attention was called to this 



120 TEOPHIES OF SONG. 

hymn, and he said, " I would give a thousand 
worlds to enjoy the feelings I then had." In 
view of such an experience we may well pray, as 
well as sing, — 

rt Let thy goodness, like a fetter, 
Bind my wandering heart to thee." 



"JUST AS I AM, WITHOUT OKE PLEA." 

A Jew in New York, who professed not to 
believe in either Judaism or Christianity, a 
worldly, fashionable, pleasure-serving, man was 
seized by a dangerous disease and told that he 
could live only a few days. 

In spite of professed infidelity he became anx- 
ious about the future. Minister after minister 
called upon him, talked and prayed, but in vain. 
At length a Christian business man came in, and 
during his call sang, — 

" Just as I am without one plea," 

The Jew exclaimed, "Do you really mean 
that for me ? You* know what I have been — 
worldly, skeptical, pleasure-loving. Be very 
sure, now. Do you really mean that for me ? " 



TROPHIES OF SOXG. 121 

"Yes, I do just that." With much inward 
struggle the Jew was able to make the words of 
the hymn his own and say to Christ, — 

" Just as I am, I come, I come." 

A few days later he died trusting in Him, — 

" Whose love unknown 

Had broken every barrier down." 



A little boy came to one of our city mission- 
aries, and holding out a dirty and well-worn bit 
of printed paper, said, — 

" Please, sir, father sent me to get a clean pa- 
per like that." 

Taking it from his hand, the missionary un- 
folded it, and found it was a page containing 
that beautiful hymn of which the first stanza is 
as follows : 

(t Just as I am, without one plea 
But that thy blood was shed for me, 
And that thou biddst me come to thee, 
O Lamb of God, I come! " 

The missionary looked down with interest into 
the face earnestly upturned to him, and asked 
the little boy where he got it, and why he wanted 
a clean one. 



122 TROPHIES OF SONG. 

" We found it, sir," said he, " in sister's pocket 
after she died ; and she used to sing it all the 
time when she was sick, and loved it so much 
that father wanted to get a clean one to put in 
a frame to hang it up. Wont you give us a 
clean one, sir ? " 

This little page, with a single hymn on it, had 
been cast upon the air, like a fallen leaf, by 
Christian hands, humbly hoping to do some 
possible good. In some little mission Sunday- 
school, probably, this poor girl had thoughtlessly 
received it, afterwards to find in it, we hope, the 
Gospel of her salvation. Could she, in any prob- 
ability, have gone down into death, sweetly sing- 
ing that hymn of penitence and faith in Jesus to 
her latest breath, without the saving knowledge 
of him, which the Holy Spirit imparts ? 



" PRAISE GOD FROM WHOM ALL BLESSINGS ELOW." 

Many have heard from Chaplain McCabe's 
own fire-touched lips, how this grand old 
doxology, that has doubtless been on more 
lips than any other uninspired production, 
was sung by the starving " boys in blue " 



TROPHIES OF SONG. 123 

that were incarcerated in Libby Prison. Day- 
after day they saw comrades passing away, 
and their numbers increased by fresh, living 
recruits for the grave. One night about ten 
o'clock, through the stillness and the darkness, 
they heard the tramp of coming feet, that 
soon stopped before the prison door until 
arrangements could be made inside. In the 
company was a young Baptist minister, whose 
heart almost fainted as he looked on those 
cold walls and thought of the suffering inside. 
Tired and weary he sat down, put his face 
in his hands and wept. Just then a lone voice 
of deep, sweet pathos, sung out from an 
upper window, — 

" Praise God from whom all blessings flow ; " 

and a dozen manly voices joined in the second 
line, — 

" Praise Him all creatures here below ; v 

and then by the time the third was reached, 
more than a score of hearts were full, and 
these joined to send the words on high, — 

"Praise Him above ye heavenly host ; *' 

and by this time the prison was all alive, 



124 TEOPHIES OF SONG. 

and seemed to quiver with the sacred song, 
as from every room and cell those brave men 
sang,— 

"Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost." 

As the song died out on the still night that 
enveloped in darkness the doomed city of Rich- 
mond, the young man arose and happily said, — 

" Prisons would palaces prove, 

If Jesus would dwell with me there." 



In the great cotton famine in England, which 
desolated Lancashire for long and weary 
months, the conduct of the operatives was 
the admiration of the world. There were 
no riots and no excess of crimes. The people, 
men and women, went into the Sunday-school 
houses and prayed. They had been taught 
to do so, and they were upheld in the time 
of trial by the truths they had learned. When 
the first wagon load of cotton arrived, the 
people unhooked the horses and drew it them- 
selves, and surrounding it began to sing — what 
do you think they sang ? They sang the grand 
old doxology, while the tears came flowing 
down their cheeks. 



CONSECRATED VOICES. 

A young Scottish lady of rank, whose heart 
the Lord had touched and opened, longed to 
draw others within the circle of a Saviour's 
love ; but among the gay and proud who were 
her companions, the merry jest, the gay laugh, 
and the light and frivolous manner of her 
associates, hindered every effort, and seemed 
to hedge her way before her on every hand. 
Discouraged and sad, oppressed with the bur- 
den of the Lord, and knowing not how to 
attain the desire of her heart, she carried the 
matter to God in prayer, and, as was her 
custom, closed the day with a song of praise. 
Shortly after she had finished her song, her 
serving maid entered the room in tears, and 
besought her to sing again the sacred words, 
and in broken accents told how those strains 
had touched and melted her heart. 

"No words of entreaty," said she, "could 
ever affect my soul as those plaintive songs 
to which for weeks I had listened, as my 
mistress poured out in them her love for the 
Redeemer, and her faith and trust in him." 

125 



126 TROPHIES OF SONG. 

Sleep fled that night from the eyes of the 
young disciple, in the new joy and thank- 
fulness that filled her heart at the discovery 
of the blessing God had granted upon the songs 
she had sung. " That talent," she said, " I 
have consecrated to God. I will sing for him ; 
and if through this means I may touch souls, 
my happiness shall be complete." 

From this time, she devoted herself to the 
study and expression of sacred song; and 
while she touched with skill the various in- 
struments on which she had learned to play, 
her voice of wondrous power would entrance 
and thrill her hearers. It was the outgushing 
of her joyous heart; the thanksgiving of a 
redeemed soul; her testimony, poured upon 
careless ears, concerning the wondrous love 
of him who came to save our race; who cares 
for all his creatures; who gathered little chil- 
dren to his arms, and whose blessing crowns 
with joy the saint of God, even down to hoary 
hairs. Many were charmed and cheered with 
her songs. The sweet story of old, thus ren- 
dered, seemed to possess new power to melt 
the careless heart. In cottages and halls, in 



TROPHIES OF SONG. 127 

the drawing-room of wealth and the homes 
of humble life, she sung her songs for Jesus, 
while with lifted heart she sought his bless- 
ing on the offering; and ere many months 
had passed away, she had the delight of know- 
ing that numbers of those around her had, 
through the songs she sang, been led to taste 
the joy which she tasted, being brought up 
out of the horrible pit and miry clay, and 
placed upon the Living Rock, and having a 
new song put in their mouths. 



The choir of a church in New York city 
have truly consecrated their gift of song to 
the service of Christ. Not content with lead- 
ing the praise of the great congregation, they 
are earnest song-workers in the Sunday-school. 
And they do not stop here. An aged blind 
woman will tell you how often they make her 
lonely home happy, bringing to her visions 
and dreams of the beautiful land. No wonder 
the dear old soul, in humble, but heartfelt ap- 
preciation, breaks in upon the strains which 
they sing, with her tender, "Bless the Lord! " 
If you follow these song messengers after they 



128 



TROPHIES OF SONG. 



have left the blind Christian, you shall find them 
among the sick and dying. The sufferer forgets 
his pain, in listening to their melodies ; and the 
spirit that is going home, floats peacefully away 
to its rest in heaven. 

Church and Sunday-school singers everywhere 
might well ponder the blessed example of this 
choir, and join them in making the waste places 
around them vocal with " songs of the beauti- 
ful." 




APPENDIX. 

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OP 
MR. IRA D. SANKEY. 

Mr. Sankey was born in Edinburgh, Pa., in 
the year 1840. His father was English, and his 
mother Scotch-Irish. The early influences that 
surrounded his life were those of a Christian 
home. A Scotch neighbor named Frazer intro- 
duced him to the Sunday-school at an early age, 
and by this and other acts of Christian friend- 
ship greatly endeared himself to the future evan- 
gelist, who often makes grateful mention of his 
kindness, and his praying as the means of his 
conversion. At seventeen Mr. Sankey joined 
the Methodist Episcopal church, of which he is 
still a member. 

When only twenty he was elected superinten- 
dent in the Sunday-school and while filling this 

129 



( 



130 APPENDIX. 

position began to sing sacred solos and to use 
sacred songs to express and impress the Gospel. 
A few years later he was appointed a class- 
leader, and in that position urged upon his class 
the importance of using God's " testimonies " in 
their testimonies, quoting much from the Bible. 

During the war he served his country as a sol- 
dier, and after it was over, became President of 
the Young Men's Christian Association at New- 
castle, Pa., which was then his home. While 
filling this position Mr. Moody met him at a 
Young Men's Christian Association Convention, 
and, being greatly impressed by his way of sing- 
ing sacred songs, earnestly invited him to come 
to Chicago to " sing the Gospel " there as an 
evangelistic work. After prayerful considera- 
tion of the matter Mr. Sankey gave up his busi- 
ness and entered upon the evangelistic labors in 
which he has been so useful since that time. 

Not long after Mr. Sankey began his work in 
Chicago, Mr. Moody's church with which he was 
laboring, was burned. The people, however, 
were held together by Mr. Sankey's earnest 
efforts joined with those of Mr. Moody. 

It was at this time that Mr. Sankey received 



APPENDIX. 131 

his greatest incentive to his Christian work 
through the conversion of a child by the influ- 
ence of the song, — 

" Jesus loves even me." 

at one of his singing meetings in the temporary 
tabernacle. The incident is given in another 
place among those connected with the song 
above mentioned. 

Soon after the fire Mr. Sankey went with Mr. 
Moody to England for evangelistic work. The 
blessing which attended Mr. Sankey's singing is 
sufficiently noted in the introductory letter to 
this volume by Mr. Pentecost, who was himself 
amid the scenes he describes. The Daily JEdin- 
lurgh Review gave the following editorial in re- 
gard to the power of sacred song as Mr. Sankey 
used it in Scotland : 

" The power of music over the mind and soul 
has been described and illustrated with encyclo- 
paedic fullness. Fletcher, of Saltoun, put it in a 
forcible aphorism which will never be forgotten : 
6 Let me make the songs of a country, and let 
who will make the laws.' Wharton boasted that 
he had overturned an ancient dynasty by a song 
— the famous Lillibulero. Whitefield protested 



132 APPENDIX. 

that it was not to be borne that the devil should 
have all the best tunes. Luther promoted the 
Reformation as much by his favorite psalms and 
hymns as by his preaching ; and our own Scot- 
tish forefathers made a notable, if not altogether 
successful attempt to wean the population from 
the ribald ballads of the sixteenth century, by 
substituting 'gude and godly ballats,' to the 
same melodies, and, as far as might be, adopting 
the same words. 

" Yet we have hardly wakened up in Scotland 
to a sense of the importance of sacred music, 
notwithstanding all the efforts made during the 
past twenty or thirty years. In a good many 
Presbyterian congregations the psalmody is still 
treated as a bit of convenient padding to be laid 
between the more important exercises of wor- 
ship. The minister gives out four verses, some- 
times only three, and sometimes only two ; and 
by getting up to preach or to pray, or by looking 
up his text or his MSS during the singing, shows 
that he has not got his mind in that part of the 
proceedings. And should the sermon be of more 
than the average duration, an attempt is made 
to recover the lost time by shortening the sing- 



APPENDIX. 133 

ing. Any prejudice there may be against ' sing- 
ing the Gospel ' will thaw and resolve itself into 
a pleasant dew as soon as he opens his mouth. 

" Why should there be any prejudice ? For 
generations most of the Highland ministers, and 
some of the Lowland ministers, too, have sung 
the Gospel — sung their sermons, aye, and sung 
their prayers, too. The only difference is that 
they sing very badly, and Mr. Sankey very beau- 
tifully. He accompanied himself on the ' Amer- 
ican Organ,' it is true, and some of us who be- 
long to the old school can't swallow the ' kist of 
whustles ' yet. It may help us over this stum- 
bling-block if we consider that with the finest 
voice and ear in the world nobody could main- 
tain the proper pitch of a melody, singing so long 
as Mr. Sankey does. And then the American 
Organ is ' only a little one.' When a deputation 
from the session waited on Ralph Erskine, to re- 
monstrate with him on the enormity of fiddling, 
he gave them a beautiful tune on the violincello, 
and they were so charmed that they returned to 
their constituents with the report that it was all 
right — 'it wasna' the wee sinfu' fiddle ' that 
their minister operated upon, but a grand instru- 



134 APPENDIX. 

merit, full of grave sweet melody. I'm afraid 
some good, true blue Presbyterians will be 
excusing Mr. Sankey's organ, and themselves 
for listening to it, by some such plea as 
that." 

After " singing the Gospel " in many of the 
largest cities of England, Scotland and Ireland, 
Mr. Sankey has returned to our own country 
again, and has achieved " song victories " on our 
own shores equal to those which God awarded to 
him in other lands. We shall close this brief 
sketch of a career which we trust will long con- 
tinue, by quoting an editorial from * The Inter- 
Ocean " of Chicago in regard to " Mr. Sankey's 
Musical Oratoiy " : 

" People are not agreed as to what rank Mr. 
Sankey shall take as a singer, but they are 
agreed as to the point that he is just the man to 
join Mr. Moody in his great work. The methods 
of the two men are dissimilar, and they appear 
on the platform in marked contrast. Mr. Moody 
seizes a crowd at any moment, whether it be 
noisy or quiet, and asserts his authority. 

" He never stands on ceremony, but grapples 
with the giant at once, and with a supreme con- 



APPENDIX. 135 

sciousness that he will not lose his grip proceeds 
to the business in hand. Mr. Sankey, on the 
other hand, approaches a great crowd with al- 
most womanly gentleness. He touches the keys 
of the organ with soft reverence. He waits till 
the Tabernacle is so quiet that you can hear a 
pin drop ; he leans forward to say a few words 
in an appealing, musical tone, as though he 
wanted to be sure that the people were all in re- 
sponsive mood, and then he takes possession and 
carries the crowd with him. His singing is a 
sort of musical oratory, and it affects or influen- 
ces people as an oratorical performance rather 
than a musical one. That is to say, Mr. Sankey 
touches the same chords, arouses the same feel- 
ings, appeals to the same emotions that would 
be struck or aroused by a persuasive speaker, 
and he sways an audience precisely as it would 
be surged by a man of rare eloquence. 

" If there be arts in his manner, they are of 
the orator, rather than of the musician. His 
sentences come to the audience clean cut and 
ringing with melody. The sentiment lives in 
the lines and in the tone as well as in the music. 
He sings as one in earnest, as one whose heart is 



136 APPENDIX. 

full of the sentiment of his song, as one anxious 
to express all the tenderest and liveliest feelings 
of the human heart. 

"Mr. Moody steps on the platform like a 
blacksmith approaching his forge. He makes no 
concessions to circumstances, and is not influ- 
enced by unfavorable conditions. 

44 Mr. Sankey, on the contrary, commences 
work when the doors are closed. He under- 
stands his mission as well as Mr. Moody under- 
stands his, and so works with the same great re- 
sults. He has studied men and women to good 
purpose, and in choice of subject, in manner of 
introduction, and style of execution he shows 
the results of this study. Musicians may not be 
charmed ; he is not singing so much for them 
as for the men and women with troubled hearts; 
for men and women perplexed and tired ; for 
men and women who have hearts and heart- 
aches, as well as ears. He sings now for the 
mother, now for the father, and again for all. 
He never makes a mistake. He never promises 
more than he accomplishes. He never ventures 
to approach a crowd until it is in the right 
mood, and he never leaves it until every heart is 



APPENDIX. 137 

throbbing responsively. In studying Mr. Moody 
we are driven forward to the contemplation of 
the results of his work. In studying Mr. San- 
key, we linger over the sweet voice, the trem- 
bling tones, the tender words. Mr. Moody 
startles us and arouses us, while Mr. Sankey 
soothes and comforts. Mr. Moody, earnest as 
he is, succeeds without the grace of voice and 
manner. Mr. Sankey, earnest as he is, succeeds 
because of grace in voice and manner. He is 
well fitted to be Mr. Moody's companion, and 
those who hear him do not wonder at his con- 
tinued success in this peculiar field." 



SAFE WITH THE MASTER. 

Where is now our loved one? 

WTiere, O where? 
Not where the living weary, 
Not where the dying moan ; 
Not where the day is dreary, 
Not where the night is lone. 
Not in a home of weeping, 
Not in a darkened room, 
Not in a graveyard sleeping 
Not in a silent tomb. 

"Where is now our loved one ? 

Where, O where? 
Safe in a land immortal, 
Safe in a country rare, 
Safe in a heavenly portal 
Safe in a mansion fair. 
Safe with the joys supernal, 
Safe with the blest to bow, 
Safe with the Love Eternal, 
Safe with the Master now. 



From " The Prize." Copyrighted. 




By P. P. Bliss 



138 




/? y°/^u^ 



Page 139 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF 
P. P. BLISS. 



BY. MRS. W. F. CRAFTS. 
[Sara J, Timanus.] 

Friday, Dec. 29, 1876, was the last day that 
dawned upon the earthly life of " The sweet 
singer of Israel," P. P. Bliss. On the day pre- 
vious Mr. Bliss and his wife left their moth- 
er's home, Rome, Pa., where they had been mak- 
ing a Christmas visit, and started for Chicago, 
when Mr. Bliss and Major D. W. Whittle were 
to continue, in the great Tabernacle, the evan- 
gelistic work begun by Moody and Sankey. As 
he rode he busied himself with Bible and paper, 
composing a new song which perished with him. 

When within about twelve hours ride of Chi- 
cago, the train on which they were traveling 
was wrecked by the fearful " Ashtabula disas- 
ter," words that will ring like a funeral knell in 
many lives for years to come. By the giving 

139 



140 APPENDIX. 

way of the bridge which spanned the Ashtabula 
River the whole train was precipicated into the 
ice-bound stream below. The cars were soon 
in flames, and the devastating elements of fire 
and water, adding their fury to the wild storm 
that was raging at the time, rendered the scene 
one of untold horror. The only circumstance 
connected with the death of Mr. and Mrs. Bliss 
that can be ascertained is that Mr. Bliss, after 
escaping out of a window of a car was burned to 
death on going back to rescue his wife. 

At the meeting held in memory of Mr. Bliss 
in Chicago on the following Sunday, the fact 
was recalled with a sad interest that the last 
time he had sung in the Moody and Sankey 
meetings he had said, " I don't know as I shall 
ever sing here again, but I want to sing this as 
the language of my heart," and then had sung 
that song of his : 

" I know not the hour my Lord will come 

To take me away to his own dear home, 

But I know that his presence will lighten the gloom, 

And that will be glory for me." 

At the time of his death Mr. Bliss was in the 



APPENDIX. 141 

very prime and vigor of manhood, being thirty- 
eight years of age. 

His boyhood and early manhood were spent in 
northwest Pennsylvania. 

In the year 1864, Mr. George F. Root of Chi- 
cago, the well-known music publisher, learning 
of his musical ability — both as a composer and 
leader, engaged his services. Mr. Bliss then re- 
moved to Chicago, and for nearly ten years went 
out into different parts of the West to conduct 
Normal Musical Institutes. He was also en- 
gaged during this time in composing Sunday- 
school music, the first of which appeared in 1870 
in a book edited and published by Mr. George 
F. Root, entitled, " The Prize." 

These were days of beginnings and of trials in 
the life of Mr. Bliss and his wife. Yet they 
styled their humble home " The Kot o' Kon- 
tent " and gave a cheery welcome to the friends 
who visited them. 

In 1871 Mr. Bliss' first book, « The Charm," 
appeared and at once gave him a place among 
the favorite composers of Sundayrschool music. 
About this time he was elected to the position 
of chorister in the First Congregational Church 



142 APPENDIX. 

of Chicago (Rev. Dr. Goodwin's), of which he 
had become a member, on coming to Chicago, 
having previously been a Methodist. He was 
also chosen superintendent of the large Sunday- 
school of that church, very many of whose mem- 
bers were led to Christ by his influence. Fre- 
quent demands were now made upon him to sing 
at dedications, anniversaries and Sunday-school 
gatherings. On these occasions he gave his ser- 
vices whenever time would permit. His Nor- 
mal Musical work still continued and in 1872 he 
published a collection of new songs, duets, trios 
and quartets, entitled " The Song Tree." The 
design of the book is beautifully expressed in the 
following acrostic preface : 

" Sing away dreariness, 

Tree of my love; 
Oh, and to weariness 

Rest may' st thou prove: 
Nobly endeaver the 

Erring to win 
Guarding forever from 

Evil and sin. ,, 

Subsequently appeared " Sunshine," a book for 
Sunday-schools and " The Joy," for classes, 
choirs and conventions. 



APPENDIX. 143 

Mr. Bliss at length resigned his position as 
chorister and his work as a musical leader, with 
much pecuniary sacrifice, in order to give him- 
self wholly to evangelistic work. In a letter to 
a friend dated " May 13, 1874," when he was 
just starting to a Musical Institute, he says : 

" Do you know Brother Moody, Whittle, and 
others are after me to sing Gospel hymns in 
evangelistic work. Shall I ? Where can I ac- 
complish most ? Pray that I may make no mis- 
take." 

He decided to go into this work, and two 
months later wrote to the same friend : 

" Major Whittle and I are holding protracted 
meetings. God is wonderfully using us in every 
way. Help us to praise him for it. I am pre- 
paring a book of " Gospel Songs " for our special 
use, and would be right glad to have you send a 
list of hymns and tunes which have been most 
successful in your experience. And above all, 
pray for the book. All the good in the book 
must come from God." 

This book, " Gospel Songs," was published in 
1874 with the following acrostic preface which 
truly represents its deep spiritual purpose : 



144 APPENDIX. 

" God so loved the world that he gave his 
Only begotten 
Son, that whosoever believeth on him should 

not 
Perish, but have 
Kverlasting 
Life." 

"Serve the Lord with gladness; come before 
his presence with thanksgiving. 

O Lord, open thou my lips and my mouth shall 
show forth thy praise. 

Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but unto 
thy name, give glory. 

Great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised. 
Sing unto the Lord, bless his name, show forth 
his salvation from day to day. 

Since July 1874 Mr. Bliss has been engaged 
earnestly and almost constantly in evangelistic 
work in connection with Major Whittle. The 
following slip which has sometimes been distrib- 
uted as an invitation to their meetings shows 
how they shared the work : 



APPENDIX. 145 

WEEK OF PRAYER. 



MAJOR WHITTLE 

"WILX, PBEACH THE GOSPEL, 

AND 

P. P. BLISS 

•Wllili SHETO- TEZE GOSPEL, 

this Wednesday Evening, Jan. 6th 9 
AT UNION PARK CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH, 

ASHLAND AVENUE, OPPOSITE PARK. 
SEATS FREE. ALL INVITED. 

FURTHER APPOINTMENT. 

" He hath appointed a day in the which He will 
judge the world in righteousness by that Man ( Jesus 
Christ ) whom He hath ordained ; whereof He hath 
given assurance unto all men in that He hath raised 
Him from the dead." — Acts. 17: 31. 



Friend, are you ready to meet this appointment ? There can 
be no postponement. 



146 APPENDIX. 

Mr. Bliss held these evangelistic meetings in 
company with Major Whittle, at Mobile, At- 
lanta, Nashville, Louisville, Chicago, Peoria, 
Kalamazoo, Jackson, and many other places, and 
always with.great success. 

Mr. Bliss sang as earnest ministers preach, not 
for artistic effects but to express and impress the 
Gospel. In his singing he was putting in prac- 
tice what he so often exhorted upon others in his 
song: 

" Let the lower lights be burning, 

Send a gleam across the wave ; 
Some poor fainting, struggling seaman 

You may rescue, you may save/' 

His songs in these " Gospel meetings " were 
frequently prefaced with a short and earnest 
prayer by himself or by the reading or repeating 
of Scripture passages in the audience. 

The following brief remarks, made by Mr. 
Bliss at " The Sunday-school Parliament," on 
Wellesley Island in the St. Lawrence River, dur- 
ing the summer of 1876, show his high estimate 
of sacred music : 

" That which ought to have the greatest em- 
phasis just now in regard to sacred music is the 



APPE1SDIX. 147 

need of greater reverence. While a song is be- 
ing sung, people will pass up a church aisle or a 
Sunday-school aisle, whisper to each other, move 
about the room, distribute or collect library 
books, put on overcoats, or do a score of other 
things that one would never think of doing during 
any other kind of prayer. When we are offering 
praise or prayer to God in metre, as much as if 
we were doing it upon our knees, a reverence of 
manner and spirit should accompany it. Another 
thing to be enforced in connection with sing- 
ing is a greater thoughtfulness in regard to the 
meaning of what we sing. Are the words prayer ? 
Or praise ? Let appropriate thought as well as 
appropriate melody accompany the words." 

Mr. Bliss is known even more widely as a 
composer of sacred song than as a singer, being 
the author of both words and music of the fol- 
lowing popular songs : " Jesus loves even me," 
"Almost persuaded," "Hold the fort," "Pull 
for the shore," " What shall the harvest be ? " 
"More to follow," "Hallelujah, 'tis done," 
" Free from the law," " Let the lower lights be 
burning," " Whosoever heareth," and " Only an 
armor-bearer," 



148 APPENDIX. 

In all these and his other hymns Mr. Bliss 
showed a remarkable skill in versifying evangel- 
ical doctrine in the very phrases of Scripture. 

Mr. Bliss composed with the greatest ease and 
his music was mostly bright and cheerful. When 
Haydn was asked, " why his music was so glad- 
some," he replied, " I can't make any other. I 
write as I feel. When I think of God my heart 
is so full of joy that the words dance and leap 
from my pen." The same might he said of Mr. 
Bliss and his music, for he was in perfect har- 
mony with God and his work. 

The titles of his books " Sunshine " and " Joy" 
epitomize the author as a Christian and a com- 
poser. Indeed his own name, " Bliss " would 
fulfill George MacDonald's idea of a true name 
when he says : 

" A name of the ordinary kind in this world 
has nothing essential in it. It is but a label by 
which a man and a scrap of history may be 
known from another man and his scrap of his- 
tory. The true name is one 'which expresses 
the character, the nature, the being, the meaning 
of the person who bears it. To whom is this 
name given ? 4 To him that overcometh.' " 



APPENDIX. 149 

No element of pride entered into Mr. Bliss' 
estimate of his work. A friend wrote him a let- 
ter quoting somewhat from " Waiting and watch 
ing for me." The reply came back, " No, I 
don't seem to rest much in the hope of seeing a 
throng of heavenly ones waiting and watching 
for me. They might be in better business. 
Nor of hearing echoes of my songs there. I 
want something better. The best things about 
heaven, seems to me, will be eternal freedom 
from sin, and Jesus' immediate presence. 

* There we shall see His face 
And never, never sin.' " 

His prayer in song expresses the humility and 
also the spiritual aspiration of his heart : 

" More purity give me, 
More strength to o'ercome, 
More freedom from earth-stains, 
More longings for home; 
More fit for the kingdom, 
More used would I be, 
More blessed and holy 
More, Saviour, like thee." 

As to personal appearance Mr. Bliss is thus 
pictured by one who knew him well : 

" He was tall and well-developed in his phy- 



150 APPENDIX, 

sical frame, with clustering black hair and a 
handsome face, possessing easy and polished 
manners and a very joyous temperament, to- 
gether with a wealth of sympathy." 

Perhaps the most notable traits in Mr. Bliss' 
character were his " rock-firm God-trust " and 
his cheerful self-sacrifice. 

After the great fire in Chicago he wrote : 

" I think God is bringing great good out of 
this seeming evil. Unite your prayer daily with 
ours that 4 after the fire the still, small voice may 
be heard and that the Spirit may be poured out 
in this city." 

He wrote a song of comfort to cheer those 
who had suffered by the fire, and sang it with 
his grand voice here and there through the city 
itself and afterwards in a tour with Mr. Moody 
raising a relief fund. We give two verses of the 
song below : 

" 3. Thousands are homeless, and quick to their cry 
Heaven-born charity yields a supply, 
Upward we glance in our terrible grief, 
1 Give us this day ' brings the promised relief. 

H 4. Treasures have vanished and riches have flown, 
Hopes for the earth-life are blasted and gone, 



APPENDIX. 151 

Courage, O brother, yield not to despair, 
'God is our refuge,' his kingdom we share." 

Chorus, 
" Roll on, roll on, O billow of fire! 
Dash with thy fury waves higher and higher 
Ours is a mansion abiding and sure, 
Ours is a kingdom eternal, secure." 

During the sessions of a Sunday-school camp 
meeting in which he was the musical leader 
there came up a very sudden and severe gale, 
rending and throwing to earth the pavilion tent 
which but an hour previous had been occupied 
by several hundred persons. Providentially the 
gale occurred at the noon hour when but few 
were under it and all these escaped unharmed. 

" Is any one killed or hurt?" was Mr. Bliss* 
first question. 

"No." 

" Thank God ! We must have a praise meet- 
ing." 

Soon after, at the opening of the afternoon 
session, with tearful eyes and beaming face he 
led the great congregation in singing : 

" Praise God from whom all blessings flow." 

Perhaps the most complete evidence of Mr. 



152 APPENDIX. 

Bliss' trust in God was his actual dependence 
upon liim for daily bread. 

In the summer of 1876 a friend congratulated 
Mrs. Bliss that the immense sale of " Gospel 
Hymns and Sacred Songs " must have given 
them at least ten thousand dollars to pay down 
toward a home. She replied, " Mr. Bliss has 
not ten dollars to pay down on a home. Since 
January we have been living from day to daj^, 
doing the Lord's work with our might and de- 
pending upon what he sends us. Although the 
illness of our children has greatly increased our 
expenses beyond other j^ears God has sent us 
enough to supply our needs." 

Many are not aware that Mr. Bliss, as well as 
Mr. Sankey, gave up the royalty upon the " Bliss 
and Sankey Song Book," ( not " The Moodj^ and 
Sankey Song Book," as it is sometimes thought- 
lessly called ) and thus sacrificed about thirty 
thousand dollars, putting the royalty into the 
hands of Mr. George H. Stuart, Mr. W. E. 
Dodge, Jr., and Mr. John V. Farwell, to use it 
for charitable and evangelistic purposes. " Gos- 
pel Hymns No. 2," which Mr. Bliss with Mr. San- 
key had just completed when he was killed, was 



APPENDIX. 153 

sent forth under the same self-sacrificing and 
benevolent arrangement on the part of the au- 
thors. 

Mr. Moody recently urged Mr. Bliss to take 
at least five thousand dollars of the royalty for 
himself and family, saying that he needed it, but 
he would not take a dollar. It must all go for 
the Lord's work. 

It was sufficient reward to him that the songs 
he had composed were proclaiming the Gospel 
round the world, being sung not only in Europe, 
but also in Africa and Asia. I recently heard 
"Hold the Fort" in Swedish. A missionary 
letter from Africa reports the singing of it there 
in the Zulu language, and the Bliss and Sankey 
collection has also been translated and published 
(in part) in China, in the native tongue. In 
India also singing evangelists are using these 
same hymns. 

With the deep God-trust and self-sacrifice Mr. 
Bliss combined an abounding cheerfulness. His 
beaming face was a silent psalm assuring the be- 
holder, " Happy is the man that hath the God of 
Jacob for his help." 

He wrote to a friend, "Dr. V- is jolly, 



154 APPENDIX. 

great and good. Some people are great and 
good, but can't be jolty. I can't like them quite 
so well." He wrote out his own heart in that 
verse of his : 

" No darkness have we who in Jesus abide, 

The Light of the world is Jesus; 
"We walk in the light when we follow our guide, 

The Light of the world is Jesus." 

He has now realized beyond his utmost dreams 
on earth the heavenly glory and joy of which he 
sang in another verse of that same hymn as well 
as in scores of others : 

" No need of the sunshine in heaven we're told ; 

The Light of that world is Jesus. 
The Lamb is the light in the City of Gold; 

The Light of that world is Jesus." 

This sketch would be very incomplete with- 
out some record of Mrs. Bliss, whom her hus- 
band was pleased to style " My faithful assistant 
Lou." Mrs. Bliss was herself the composer of 
several choice pieces of music, both hymns and 
tunes ; one of them a very beautiful tune to the 
words of " Rock of Ages," which was impres- 
sively sung at their funeral services. When- 
ever circumstances would permit she attended 



APPENDIX. 155 

her husband in his public work, aiding him by 
her voice and by playing accompaniments. It is 
said that from her he received his first lessons, 
both in singing and playing. They were indeed 
of "one accord " in their noble life work. When 
the sudden summons came she was on the Lord's 
errand with her husband. 

u Lovely and pleasant in their lives, in their 
deaths they were not divided." 

Mr. Bliss leaves a widowed mother of whom 
he was the only son, and two little ones, Paul 
and George, aged four and two years. Mr. 
Moody 'asks the people of God to take them in 
charge with their money and their prayers. 
He himself has raised ten thousand dollars for 
their support and education, and other free-will 
offerings have and will come to them from many 
a Sunday-school where Mr. Bliss' songs are 
sung, and prayers will rise from many hearts 
that God will keep them in his sheltering care. 

The memorial service in honor of these two 
Christian workers in Chicago was the largest 
meeting ever held in that city, showing the lov- 
ing esteem in which he was held. A monument 
will be erected to Mr. Bliss' memory, as is most 



156 APPENDIX. 

befitting, but the most enduring monument of 
his life will be " the good he has done," and is 
still doing by his music and his life, — the mon- 
ument he so often urged others to raise for them- 
selves, as he sang : 

Fading away, like the stars of the morning, 
Losing their light in the glorious sun; 
So let me steal away, gently and lovingly, 
Only remembered by what I have done. 

So in the harvest, if others may gather 
Sheaves from the fields that in spring I have sown; 
Who plowed or sowed matters not to the reaper: 
I'm only remembered by what I have done. 

Fading away like the stars of the morning, 
So let my name be unhonored, unknown; 
Here, or up yonder, I must be remembered, 
Only remembered by what I have done. 




HISTORIC HYMNS. 



Collected by REV. W. F. CRAFTS. 

Music arranged under the supervision of Dr. E. Tourjee* 

A COIXECTION OF 

a hundred popular Standard Hymns, of which incidents 
are given in " Trophies of Song." A pamphlet of thirty-two 
pages, in stout covers, which affords 

A CHEAP HYMN BOOK 

for Sunday Schools, Congregational Singing, Praise Meetings, 
Concerts, Camp Meetings and Special Services. It has 
doubled the volume of congregational singing in churches, 
where it has been used, by furnishing the words, at a slight 
expense, to every person in the congregation. Besides the 
hymns, " Bible Readings,' ' Responsive Readings, Introduc- 
tory Responsive Services, &c, &c, are also included. Com- 
mended by I. D. Sankey, P. P. Bliss, and other prominent 
siogers' 

Price, in Stout Paper Cover, per 100, - - $7.00. 
" " Cloth, per 100, ----- 10.00. 

Send ten cents for specimen copy. 



TROPHIES OF SONG. 

By Rev. W. F. Crafts. 

WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY DR. E. TOURJEE. 

A COMPILATION OF 

200 STRIKING INCIDENTS, 

connected with the origin and history of onr most popular 
hymns, hoth of the Church and Sunday School, together 
with articles hy prominent writers on " Praise Meetings,' 9 
" Congregational Singing," " Sunday School Singing," and 
all the various uses of sacred music. Its suggestions and in- 
cidents make it valuable to pastors, superintendents^ and 
choristers, and its numerous and thrilling incidents give it 
interest for the general reader and even for children, Pries 
$1.25. 

D. LOTHBOP & CO., Publishers, 



THE NAWIE ABOVE EVERY NAME. In sending forth a 

new and revised edition of this work the Publishers append a few of tb« 
many favorable notices which, from various sources, testify to its 
catholicity, and its adaptation to the wants of the disciples of our Lord 
by whatever denominational name they may be called. 
The Name abOVe Every Name, or, Devotional Meditations. 
With a text for every day in the year. By the Rev. Samuel Cutler. 
This little volume, which is a gem of typography, is just what it claims 
to be— "devotional and practical/ The pure gold of the gospel is here 
without the base alloy of man's wisdom. It accords with the teachings 
of the divine Spirit, and tends to exalt in the souls of men the Christ of 

God. 

The texts are fitly chosen, and the exquisite fragments of sacred poetry 

seem like jewels from a mine of inspiration. None can read this book 
devoutly without being benefited; and all who read it in the spirit in which 
it appears to have been written, will lay down the volume with higher 
views of Christ's nature, and of His work, and reverently acknowledge that 
if His name be above every name in dignity and glory, it is also, as de- 
clared in the inspired canticle, " as ointment poured forth" in its heavenly 
fragrance. — Parish Visitor. 

From the Congregationist. 

The Name above Every Name, it has * chapter for every 

week in the year, each chapter preceded with appropriate passages from 
Scripture and closing with a choice selection from devotional poetry. The 
whole book is eminently evangelical, and fitted to foster the growth of 
true and genuine piety in the soul. 

The Name above Every Name. By the Rev. Samuel 

Cutler. This has been carefully prepared by its author. The texts are 
for every day in the year, and have reference to the Scriptural titles of 
our Lord. The devotional and practical meditations are for every week in 
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of the titles, and of first lines of poetry with the author's name. 

The work is exceedingly valuable, not only for its meditations, but for 
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edge Society. 
The volume is a precious vade tnecum y for all who love the " Name that 
is above every name" — Protestant Churchman. 
Plain Edition $1.00 Full Gilt $1.50 Red line Edition $2.00 

D. Lothrop & Co., Publishers, Boston. 



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